Brave
by SpoonyLupin
Summary: Richie wouldn't leave his one true love alone in the crumbling sewer. He wouldn't. Even with the other Losers telling him that he was dead, to just let him go. The man that he loved more than anything and anyone else in the world deserved more than that, and Richie wouldn't give up on him. Not now, not ever. [Or Richie and Eddie get the happy ending they deserve (eventually).]
1. Chapter 1: Second Chances

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Stephen King, Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga and Gary Dauberman, and various publishers including, but not limited to, Viking Press, New Line Cinema, RatPac-Dune Entertainment, KatzSmith Productions, Lin Pictures, Double Dream, Rideback, Vertigo Entertainment, Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

_Author's note: I've only seen the movie once, and I'm not the most observant person in the world, so please excuse any details I got wrong. I'm not even going to wager a guess on how long this will be, because my estimates always manage to be ridiculously off anyway. It'll be as long as it needs to be, and I hope you all enjoy it!_

_The title of this story is taken from the song Brave by Josh Groban._

**Brave  
**Part 1: Derry**  
**Chapter 1: Second Chances**  
**

"Richie," came Bev's voice from behind him. "He's dead."

As if that was a reason to leave the man that he loved the most in this world alone in a damp, dark, crumbling sewer. To leave his body down here in the very place where It had festered and thrived for so long. To let Eddie's body lie here where so many of It's victims had been brought to be devoured.

They had come back to Derry for the sole purpose of destroying It completely. The thing they had been so terrified of for so long. The very thing that Richie had almost run away from a second time. The very thing that had almost made Richie leave Eddie behind forever. Richie had been so very close to leaving this town completely, but something, someone made him stay.

Richie would be lying if he said Eddie didn't have a little bit to do with that – both in him wanting to stay and wanting to go. A part of Richie was terrified that if he stayed, it might lead to certain things coming to light. Even though that was probably what he wanted most in the world – to be out. To be free. In the end, however, he thought that simply running, putting all of this behind him once and for all would be the best thing for everyone. Then no one would ever have to know how truly scared to death he was. Of everything.

But then the longer he stayed, the more Richie began to remember about Eddie. It was almost like a tidal wave of emotions coming back to him now, and hell, he couldn't leave Eddie even if he wanted to. He was bound to this man forever whether he liked it or not. He was bound to him in life and in death.

Richie owed Eddie so much more than to leave him here. He owed the man he loved his very life for managing to free him from the deadlights, even if it cost him his own. There was no way Richie was going to leave him here, regardless of whether he was dead or not. He just wouldn't.

"I'm not leaving him!" Richie shouted at them, even as he felt the ground beginning to quake underneath him. Richie suddenly didn't care if he died trying to save Eddie's body, but he needed to do it. Needed to do it for his own sanity, because he couldn't bear the thought of this being Eddie's final resting place.

"Richie!" Bill shouted, grabbing Richie by the shoulder and trying to pull him away from Eddie's body.

"No!" Richie screamed, shrugging Bill off and once again reaching out for the man he loved.

He leaned over, wrapping his arms tightly and protectively around Eddie's frail form. It had never really occurred to Richie before just how small Eddie was – both as a child and now. It made Richie want to wrap him in his arms and never let go. Not that it mattered now. In fact, Richie doubted whether anything would matter ever again.

But the one thing that did matter to him was getting Eddie's body out of there, the crumbling sewer and the rest of the Losers be damned.

"You can help me or not, but he's coming with us!" Richie snapped, struggling to pull Eddie off the ground. "If I die in the process, then so be it."

All at once, Bill's expression softened, and he reached out for Eddie's legs. "Here," Bill said, hoisting Eddie's feet up off the ground.

Bill started leading the way, running back for the well. Richie ran along after him, Eddie's head bouncing against his chest, his limp arms flailing around as they ran. The rest of the Losers trailed along behind them, none of them speaking a word.

Richie would later look back and wonder how on earth they were even able to get Eddie's body out of the well. He knew that people in extreme circumstances could rise to amazing feats, but he never really believed that such things were possible. Nor did he believe that he would be capable of those sorts of things himself. Considering they had just killed a fucking demon older than time itself, however, Richie supposed that carrying a full-grown dead man out of a well wasn't all that impossible after all.

As soon as they emerged from the house on Neibolt Street, Richie could immediately feel his legs beginning to buckle. The exertion of the last few hours was finally taking its toll on him, and it was everything he could do to get Eddie's body to soft grass before he collapsed from pure exhaustion.

Richie dropped to his knees in the front yard of the house, trying his best to keep a firm grip on Eddie. Bill carefully laid Eddie's legs down softly upon the lawn, and Richie somehow managed to keep his arms wrapped tightly around Eddie's upper body, despite his extreme fatigue. He cradled Eddie's head against his chest, leaning forward and hugging Eddie so tightly, as if that would make everything better.

Behind him, Richie could hear the house imploding, caving in on itself and crumbling to the ground. The rest of the Losers watched, but Richie didn't turn around. Didn't let anything take his focus from Eddie. Because that was all that mattered.

Richie shut his eyes and heaved a sob, holding on to Eddie tighter and tighter. His fingers found Eddie's hair, the wet and sweaty locks threading between them. It was something Richie had had the urge to do multiple times over the last twenty-four hours, but he didn't dare. Didn't dare to do the very thing that he wanted most in this world. Now that he had the chance, it was too late. Eddie was gone, and it didn't matter.

Just then, however, Richie felt Eddie's body twitch slightly in his arms. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, Richie thought he recalled hearing that bodies could sometimes spasm after death, parts of the brain still firing off its last errant signals to the rest of the body. But Richie didn't think that was it. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Knew his Eddie hadn't left him just yet.

Pulling back slightly, Richie opened his eyes and stared down at Eddie's still limp body in his arms. A tiny part of Richie's mind imagined that Eddie might just open his eyes. Might stare up at Richie from under his lashes and give him that uncertain smile of his.

But that didn't happen. Eddie remained motionless.

Maybe it was just Richie's mind playing tricks on him. Maybe it was just Richie looking for signs that the love of his life hadn't yet left before he'd had a chance to come clean about his true feelings. Before he'd had a chance to tell Eddie how he truly felt about him.

That he'd loved him for decades.

Richie squeezed his eyes shut again, the tears welling up and spilling down over his cheeks. A sob escaped from Richie, and he began shaking with pent-up emotions, everything they had done over the last few days trying to fight its way out all at once.

There were hands on his shoulders, but Richie didn't look to see who they belonged to. He only kept his eyes closed and sobbed, his head bowed down towards Eddie.

Just then, however, Richie heard a strange high-pitched whistling noise. It was brief and quiet, almost drowned out by the still crumbling house behind him, but he'd recognize it anywhere. It was the sound Eddie made when he was having an asthma attack.

Richie's eyes flew open, a million memories rushing back to him with that sound. Things he had long since buried and forgotten. Things he didn't think anyone would ever have to know. The way Eddie reached for his inhaler in his fanny pack and shook it before raising it to his lips. The way Richie wished he could be the fucking inhaler, pressed up against Eddie's lips instead of cold, hard plastic.

Richie swallowed hard and gasped, "Eddie?"

The rest of the Losers were circling him, leaning over and trying to look at Eddie's face. There was that whistle again, short and soft, but there was no mistaking it now.

"He's ali-" Richie said, his voice cracking in disbelief. "He's alive."

Ben took the initiative and thank god for him, because Richie was in too much shock to even begin to think about the first thing to do. Ben reached for Eddie's neck, resting his hand behind it and slipping his other hand underneath Eddie's back.

"Lay him down flat," Ben suggested, pulling gently on Eddie's body. "It'll be easier for him to breath."

Richie really didn't want to relinquish his hold on Eddie, but he did as he was told. He slowly leaned forward, lowering Eddie to the ground and setting him flat on his back. Eddie let out a slightly louder gasp, but then stilled again.

"Does he have his inhaler?" Richie asked, starting to check all of Eddie's pockets for the object in question.

"Didn't he burn it as part of the ritual?" Bev asked.

"No, that was his artifact!" Richie replied urgently, checking every single one of Eddie's pockets over again in case he missed it. "He found it at the pharmacy! He didn't burn his inhaler he's been using. It may be a placebo, but he needs it too fucking much to do that."

"It must have fallen out somewhere," Mike said, glancing around the ground, in the grass, and at the path the led back to where the house used to stand. His eyes ran back and forth across the rubble, like Eddie's inhaler might be sitting there somewhere.

"Shit," Richie muttered, still fruitlessly riffling through Eddie's pockets. "_Shit_."

Richie leaned back on his heels, helplessly glancing from one Loser to the next. From Mike, to Ben, to Bill, and finally to Bev, like one of them would know exactly what to do, but they all appeared to be as lost as Richie felt.

But then out of nowhere, another memory came flooding back into Richie's mind. One that had long since been buried, but now seemed so clear to him, it might have just happened yesterday.

* * *

_"__Eat shit, Bowers!" Richie screamed, trying his best not to lose his footing on the uneven hill leading down into the quarry._

_"__Jesus, Richie!" Eddie yelled behind him, trying his best to keep up with his best friend. "I really don't think that literally throwing dog shit at Henry Bowers is the smartest thing to do! Aside from pissing Bowers off, you might have significantly introduced all sorts of bacteria into your system. Did you know that one single dog turd could be the home to millions-"_

_"__Did you know that fucking your mother already introduced all that bacteria into my system and more?" Richie snapped back, finally slowing his descent down the hill when he was sure they had lost Henry._

_"__Did you know that you're so full of shit, I didn't know what I was worried about in the first place?" Eddie asked in disbelief. "You probably already have worms and salmonella."_

_"__Did you get tested for crabs like I told you to?" Richie asked, turning around to face Eddie as he stepped backwards across the ground._

_"__Yeah, and you need to, too," Eddie said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "If I have it from sharing the same toilet with her, then you clearly have it from fucking her. Idiot." He rolled his eyes._

_Richie stopped, taking a soft breath. He never noticed before how ridiculously adorable Eddie was when he that – when he looked at Richie like he was a total moron. Why did Richie find that expression on Eddie's face completely entrancing all of a sudden?_

_Eddie continued to walk past Richie, completely oblivious to the feelings that he was currently awakening in his friend. Richie watched him go, his eyes drawn to the way Eddie's arms swung at his sides. To the way his hips moved in that way that was Eddie's – slightly cautious and tentative, like he thought every step would send him into a headlong nosedive._

_And then, oh god, it was happening. The toe of Eddie's sneaker had caught on a rock at the bottom of the quarry, sending him flying forward. Eddie's arms flailed out in front of him, desperately trying to grab ahold of something. The next thing Richie knew, Eddie was planted facedown into the pile of rocks, his breath coming in and out in strained whistling sounds._

_"__Eddie!" Richie shouted, bounding forward and closing the distance to his friend._

_He knelt down next to Eddie, reaching out for his back. Eddie was slowly pushing himself up on shaking arms, and Richie was relieved to see that Eddie wasn't bleeding or appeared to have hit his head. At the same time, however, he was struggling to breath._

_"__Are you okay?" Richie asked._

_Eddie couldn't respond with words, but with faint gasping sounds. He shook his head, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on land._

_"__Your inhaler," Richie suddenly said, and he fumbled underneath Eddie for the zipper to his fanny pack._

_It occurred to Richie just how close his hands were to certain parts of Eddie's anatomy and that thought made tingles rush through Richie's body. But then Richie silently cursed himself. Eddie was having an asthma attack, and Richie was being excited by impure thoughts. What in the hell was wrong with him?_

_A moment later, Richie thankfully found the zipper of Eddie's fanny pack, pulling it open as quickly as possible. He reached inside the pouch, bottles of Eddie's medicine falling out and bouncing across the rocks, the pills inside tinkling around. Jesus, Eddie had a stockpile of medications, but then Richie's hand closed around the familiar shape of the inhaler._

_"__Here," Richie said, taking the cap off of the mouthpiece and shaking the inhaler as he had seen Eddie do so many times before._

_Holding the inhaler out to Eddie, Richie pressed it again his friend's lip. Richie squeezed the end of the inhaler in and waited for Eddie to take a breath. Eddie made a strangled sound, his eyes widening. Richie squeezed the inhaler again, but Eddie shook his head against it._

_"__It-" Eddie said in between labored breaths, "emp…ty."_

_"__You have to have another one," Richie said, his voice becoming slightly panicked._

_He began rifling through Eddie's fanny pack anew, more bottles of medication plopping out among the rocks. When Richie didn't find what he was looking for, his trembling hands reached for the bottles on the ground, picking up and tossing away whatever didn't suit his needs._

_Eddie shook his head, his breaths still coming in short little gasps. "I…don't. Was going…to the pharmacy when…you decided to throw shit…at Bowers." Even in the throes of his asthma attack, Eddie gave Richie a wilting sideways glance._

_"__Shit!" Richie cried, still fruitlessly sorting through the mess of Eddie's medications on the ground._

_When he still didn't find what he was looking for, he picked up the empty inhaler, trying his best to keep his hands from shaking. He didn't do this, didn't get nervous and lose his composure like this. What was it about Eddie being in dire straits that made him lose his shit entirely?_

_"__I'll go get more," Richie said, starting to get up on wobbling legs._

_It wouldn't be the first time that one of Eddie's friends had shown up at the pharmacy to get his inhalers refilled. It had happened a time or two over the years of their friendship, and Mr. Keene didn't even bat at eye anymore when Eddie wasn't able to get to the pharmacy himself and he needed his prescription._

_Eddie's hand, however, shot out and grabbed the hem of Richie's shorts. Eddie's knuckles brushed against Richie's bare leg, and there were those tingles shooting through him again. When Richie glanced down at his friend, Eddie shook his head furiously._

_"__Bowers," Eddie managed to gasp out, "might find me."_

_"__He…" Richie began, but then he broke off._

_His eyes traveled back along trail the led to the quarry and the woods behind, up the steep embankment to the street beyond. There was no one in sight. Perhaps Henry had been distracted by something else, by another kid that required his immediate attention, or maybe even his father. It wasn't like Henry to give up after Richie had done something as stupid as throw dogshit at him._

_"__He won't," Richie said, despite his worry to the contrary._

_"__Don't…go," Eddie begged, his eyes staring up at Richie in desperation._

_"__But…" Richie said, but there was no way he could deny Eddie when he looked at him like that. Eddie could have been asking for the goddamned world, and Richie would have tried to get it for him. Always._

_"__All right," Richie said, his resolve immediately crumbling under Eddie's gaze. Richie dropped back down to his knees, the rocks underneath digging into his skin, but he didn't care. "I won't. I won't go. I'm here."_

_Richie didn't know what else to do, so he started running his hand up and down Eddie's back in an effort to try and calm him down._

_"__It's all right," Richie said, his other hand going to Eddie's arm and squeezing it tightly. "Just relax and breath. If Bowers finds us, I'll kick his goddamned ass to keep him away from you."_

_Eddie gulped in another breath of air, closing his eyes and relaxing slightly into Richie's touch. A moment, later Eddie sat back on his heels, his breath still coming in erratic gasps, but eventually they evened out and became more regular._

_Still, Richie didn't move his hands from Eddie's back or arm, and Eddie didn't seem to mind them there. Not in the least. Quite the contrary, in fact, because it was only when Richie touched him that Eddie's asthma attack began to subside._

* * *

Richie couldn't believe he had forgotten something like that, buried underneath years of comedy acts and meaningless attempts to forget the one that he now knew would forever have a hold on his heart.

"It's all right," Richie told Eddie now, gently rubbing his hands across Eddie's upper chest and shoulders. "I'm here, Eddie, and I'm not leaving, and if the clown comes back, I'll kick his motherfucking ass. And the same goes for Bowers."

Maybe if Richie was able to remind Eddie of something simpler, of their old times together as children, it would awake something inside Eddie. A will to live. A will to truly show It who was the boss by being able to survive the gaping wound in his abdomen. A will to not let an asthma attack of all things kill him when he was fighting against what must be an inordinate amount of lost blood and raging pain.

The other Losers looked at Richie like he was a lunatic, and maybe he was, his sanity perhaps still caught in It's deadlights. In the moment when he had awoken from that to see the love his life being impaled by a giant claw right in front of him. To see that moment of triumph in Eddie's eyes cut short by the very demon he thought he had just taken down once and for all.

Richie leaned forward, his lips only inches away from Eddie's face. "Breathe, Eddie. It's okay. I'm here and I'm not leaving. And Bill, and Bev, and Mike, and Ben are here too. We're here with you and we're not going anywhere." Richie's eyes briefly went up to the pile of rubble behind them, to the place where he had almost lost Eddie once and for all. "It's gone and It's not coming back either. You fucking killed It. You saved me from the deadlights and you killed It, and I'm here now because of that. Because of you."

Richie squeezed Eddie's shoulders, as if it might too give him that will to live. The will to come back to Richie.

Miraculously, Eddie gasped in a deep breath, one of his knees bending and his thigh thrusting upwards. Eddie's arms came up next, the fingers of one of his hands straightening out, seemingly reaching out for something, anything. Eddie was probably completely out of it and not at all in control of what he was doing, but Richie would never stop believing that Eddie was reaching out for him. Richie grasped Eddie's hand in his, gripping it firmly.

"Someone call for help, would you?" Bill asked, reaching up and taking his flannel off. "Take off your jackets. We need to stop his bleeding."

Ben dug his phone out of his pocket. Its screen was cracked, but it still worked when he input his password. "What in the hell do I say?" Ben suddenly asked after pressing the nine on the screen. "A giant fucking demon stabbed our friend with a massive claw?"

"Tell them the house collapsed and he was impaled by…something," Bill ordered, kneeling down on the other side of Eddie. "Just get them here."

Bill laid his flannel over the gaping and bleeding hole in Eddie's stomach. He pressed down gently, unsure of how much pressure to put onto a man who was already struggling to breathe. Richie momentarily let go of Eddie to pull off his own jacket, plopping it on the ground. Bill reached underneath Eddie, his hands lifting Eddie's back up off the grass. Richie slid his jacket underneath his friend, and he could already see the blood soaking into the fabric, staining the brown color an even darker and uglier shade.

Mike had taken off his jacket too, kneeling down next to Bill and placing it on top of Bill's own, Eddie's blood immediately soaking through the multiple layers of that fabric as well.

"I don't think mine's going to help," Bev said, shrugging out of her blood-soaked jacket and adding it to the pile on Eddie's stomach. "It's already soaked with blood."

"He mostly needs pressure applied to the wound," Bill said, still pressing down on the pile of jackets, hoping that it wasn't too late to stop the damage that It had caused.

"Yes," Ben said, apparently finally having gotten through to an operator. "I need an ambulance at 29 Neibolt Street in Derry Township. We were caught in a collapsing building. One of our friends was impaled by a beam and he's having an asthma attack."

After Ben replaced his phone in his pocket, he pulled off his shirt as well, adding it to the growing pile on top of Eddie. Ben placed his hands on top of Bill's, pressing down slightly. Mike joined suit next, threading his fingers through the others' as he put pressure on Eddie's wound. Beverly reached out too, adding her hands to the mix. A moment later, one of Ben's fingers snaked up through the pile to lay itself over Bev's pinky. The corner of Bev's lips twitched as her eyes met Ben and he stared at her in return.

This made Richie's chest hurt. He was thrilled, of course, that his friends had finally realized their feelings for each other, but why was Richie's own love life always such a mess? Why was he always alone, wishing for the one thing he couldn't have? And now that thing – Eddie, his one true love – could very well take his last breath at any moment.

"Breathe, Eddie," Richie said around a sob. He gripped Eddie's hand tightly again, squeezing it and laying his other hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Don't you leave me," he added, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against Eddie's cheek.

Richie didn't know what had come over him in that moment, and he didn't care. He didn't care what the other Losers thought. Let them know that he was ridiculously in love with Eddie and had been for longer than he could remember. Let Eddie know that he had someone waiting for him if ever woke up. Someone that would love him completely and wouldn't smother him or baby him like he was so used to. Wouldn't try and control him like his mother and Myra had.

Richie only vaguely thought of Myra, of the fact that Eddie had a wife somewhere who had no idea what was going on with him. Of the fact that even if Eddie survived and in the unlikely case that he returned Richie's feelings, decisions would have to be made about what Eddie would do with her. With his marriage.

That didn't matter right now. All that mattered was getting Eddie through this and making sure he recovered. Richie would worry about the rest when they crossed that bridge. But maybe, just maybe, Eddie would have a second chance at life. Richie would have a second chance to tell the man that he loved exactly how he felt.

The question was, what was he going to do with it? Would he find the strength inside him to be brave, or he would he continue to hide from his feelings like he had done his entire life?

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2: Beep Beep, Richie

**Brave  
**Chapter 2 - Beep Beep, Richie

Richie sat in the horribly uncomfortable chair in the hospital waiting room, his back hunched over and his head buried in his hands. He was trying his best not to cry, but his one defense mechanism against his own feelings – his collection of completely inappropriate jokes – was useless here. There wasn't a single thing he could laugh about without seeming like a complete asshole. That normally didn't bother him, but he wouldn't belittle Eddie by making jokes at a time like this. Not now. Not to Eddie.

Gripping his hands in his hair, Richie clenched his teeth and stared down at his filthy shoes that had been mucking around in the sewer not long ago. Shoes that Eddie would tell him needed to be thrown out, because they were now teeming with millions of bacteria and potential diseases.

Then Richie's eyes were drawn to the ugly ass carpet underneath his feet. Green stripes crisscrossed grey with varying sizes of red circles over top of the pattern, reminding Richie vaguely of droplets of blood. Who in their right mind would buy something so hideous, much less even design such an eyesore? Not to mention, what was something like that doing in a hospital waiting room of all places? Shouldn't the décor be more soothing to the eye?

But it was no use. Who even cared about the stupid rug? Richie was only trying to distract himself for all the good it did. Tears had flooded his eyes and began to spill out regardless. They splattered against the lenses of his glasses, fogging them up, and he didn't even care. A heavy sob escaped from Richie, and his back began to heave with pent-up emotion.

Richie suddenly wasn't concerned in the least that he was crying in front of his friends. All Richie cared about in that moment was Eddie and seeing his best friend again. Seeing the man he loved again, and a part of him was almost certain that wasn't going to happen.

Richie was certain that any moment now, a doctor would emerge from the large double doors to the emergency ward and tell them that Eddie was gone. That Richie had lost the love of his life without ever being able to tell him how felt. That Eddie had left this world unaware of the impact that he had left on his childhood best friend. The man that now knew he would love Eddie forever.

Suddenly, there were hands on his shoulders. Richie didn't look to see who they belonged to, but then Bill spoke to him a moment later.

"He'll be okay," Bill said quietly. "He didn't just survive being stabbed by a fucking demon only to die in the hospital. He's strong and he's held on for this long. He's going to make it."

His glasses now completely dripping with tears, Richie wrenched them off. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow, wiping away the tears clinging to his eyelashes and cheeks.

Richie could feel everyone's eyes on him, and all at once, he felt self-conscious. He was the only one in the room who was in tears, the only one who couldn't compose himself. He knew the others were just as worried and concerned about Eddie as he was, but they didn't quite have the connection that Richie did with him.

Richie wondered if he should have done something as blatant as kiss Eddie when they had been at the house on Neibolt Street. Did the other Losers want to ask him about it? Were they wondering what in the hell had gotten into him? When this apparent sudden attraction to Eddie had started? Were they looking at him any differently now that they realized he might have feelings for another man?

But this was hardly the time to think about anything as selfish as how the other Losers thought of him. Eddie might very well be dying at that very moment, and Richie really didn't care if the entire world hated him or not.

Just then, the double doors to the emergency ward swung open, and one of the doctors swept in. Richie was grateful for the distraction, because he definitely wasn't the least bit ready to begin discussing his sexuality with the Losers. Not right now. Not one bit.

Richie replaced his glasses on his face, then stood up so quickly from his seat, he almost toppled over. He grabbed onto a nearby chair to steady himself, then hurried across the room until he was mere feet from the doctor. Richie cleared his throat and straightened his shirt, trying to look like hadn't almost fallen on his ass. Or been traipsing around in the sewer a couple hours ago. Richie could hear the other Losers getting up from their own chairs and gathering behind him.

"I'm Doctor Muschietti," said the relatively young man with dark hair. "I've been treating Eddie."

"How is he?" Mike asked.

Richie was glad for someone's initiative, because Richie didn't think he could even find his voice at that moment. His legs felt like they were full of jelly, and he wasn't even sure if he could remain standing, much less function enough to ask questions.

"He was extremely lucky," the doctor said. "He was impaled in the very small spot exactly between his heart, lung, liver, and spinal cord. Just a centimeter off in any direction, and he might not have survived the length of time between the accident and arriving here."

Richie realized he had been holding his breath and let it all out. He started breathing heavily, air rushing in and out of his lungs. "So he's going to be okay?" Richie asked tentatively.

"Keep in mind," the doctor said, "he's lost a lot of blood. Again, if he'd lost any more, he might not have been so lucky. We did our best to repair the damage and we're giving him blood transfusions, but he's not out of the woods yet. He had a gaping wound in his chest, and there's no telling what infections, if any, he may develop from that. If he was indeed impaled by a beam in an abandoned house as you've told me, he could have been exposed to all sorts of bacteria."

To Richie's left, Beverly blew her nose and said, "Staph-o-logical infections and the like." Her voice cracked and she let out a small sob.

Richie was suddenly glad that he wasn't the only one crying anymore.

Doctor Muschietti doctor stared at Beverly for a moment before he said, "Staphylococcus, but yes, that's just one possibility. We've put him a general course of antibiotics as a preventative measure, but there's no guarantee that an infection won't develop. Also…his cheek…" the doctor said, running the back of his hand over the left side of his face. "What happened there?"

The Losers all exchanged uncertain glances with one another, not really sure how to explain the fact that Eddie had been stabbed. They couldn't exactly attribute it to the collapsing building, since it had already been bandaged ahead of time. They certainly weren't going to get into details about the confrontation they'd had with Henry Bowers, or the fact that Bowers now lay dead with a gaping hole in his own head.

"He…he fell," Bill whispered, not offering anything more.

"He's…a bit accident prone," Richie said slightly endearingly.

Of course it would be his Eddie, the only one terrified of every little germ, who would come out of their encounters with Pennywise with any lasting injuries.

"He should have been brought to the emergency room as soon as it happened," the doctor told them. "We've stitched it up, but it's showing signs of an infection starting there as well. The general antibiotics should take care of that, but it really shouldn't have been left untreated. There's no telling what could have developed from that."

The doctor paused, eyeing them all closely. "I also suggest you don't go wandering around in abandoned buildings anymore. They're usually abandoned for a reason."

"Don't worry," Ben said. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say that our days of wandering around in shady locations are over."

"Good."

"Can we see him?" Richie asked eagerly.

"He's still very weak," the doctor explained. "We've put him into a medically induced coma so he can rest, so he won't be awake, and we have him on oxygen to aid in his breathing. I suppose one of you can go in right now and just for a few minutes. He needs his rest."

"Me? Please?" Richie asked immediately, glancing around at the others.

"Go," Mike said warmly, placing a hand on Richie's shoulder and pushing him in the direction of the doors to the emergency ward.

* * *

Richie's legs still felt like they were full of jelly as he approached the door to Eddie's room. The bed sat in the middle of the room and it was surrounded by so many machines, he could barely see Eddie. Richie had to take a few more unsteady steps into the room before Eddie was in his field of vision.

Eddie had always been small and frail, but Richie had never seen him like this. He seemed completely dwarfed by the machines around him and by the bed itself. He was so very pale, he was almost as white as the sheets around him.

Eddie's entire abdomen had bandages wrapped around it, from just under his shoulders to where the sheet covered him from the waist down. His shoulders were bare, so small and slight, and Richie wanted nothing more than to squeeze them with his hands. To try and will some of his own lifeforce into Eddie's prone form.

There were tubes running everywhere. Eddie had an oxygen tube just under his nose, trailing back to a machine behind him, and there were IVs in both hands. Richie's eyes followed these lines, one to a bag providing blood, and the other to a bag of clear fluid, which Richie assumed was the antibiotic.

A part of Richie was almost too afraid to approach Eddie, worried that he'd accidentally bump against a tube and disconnect it or something. But then another part of Richie, a part of himself that he'd been suppressing for nearly thirty years, wanted nothing more than to touch and hold his Eddie.

There was no one else here to see Richie and judge him, so what did it matter anyway? Richie wasn't sure if Eddie could hear him or sense him in his current state, and again, he was terrified of what Eddie would think if he could. Then again, wouldn't it be a wonderful thing if he could? Then Richie wouldn't have to lay his feelings all out on the line a second time.

Because Richie had made a decision somewhere between the sewer and the hospital waiting room. He just may get a second chance with Eddie, and Richie wasn't about to let this one go. He'd be damned if he let another twenty-seven years pass without letting Eddie know exactly how much he loved him and cared about him.

Yes, Eddie was married, and Richie didn't have any expectations about what his confession might bring, but he just wanted Eddie to know the truth. Wanted Eddie to know that he had the chance if he wanted to take it.

And Jesus, someone would have to contact Myra and tell her all about what had happened. What would they even tell her? Richie supposed they should stick to the same story that they had told the doctor, but Myra would lose her shit if she knew Eddie had been inside an old abandoned building. Hell, Myra would be pissed off if she knew Eddie had been wandering around in a sewer, so Richie supposed that the abandoned house was the lesser of two evils.

But damn Myra. She didn't matter right now. All that mattered was Eddie and making sure that he got better. They'd worry about Myra when they got there.

"Jesus, Eds," Richie said, taking a few tentative steps closer to the bed. "Look at you. You're a mess. If you were awake right now, I could just imagine you going on and on about staph infections, and listeria, and-"

Richie suddenly stopped when his lips started quivering too much. He put his hand over his mouth as he continued to approach the bed. Tears sprung up in his eyes again, and it was all he could do to keep himself together.

When he finally got to the bed, Richie gently dropped down on the edge, immediately reaching out for one of Eddie's hands. Richie gripped it in between both of his, squeezing it firmly.

"I almost lost you," Richie said, his voice cracking. The tears spilled over his eyelids and down his cheeks once more. "You saved my life, and I almost lost you."

Richie brought Eddie's hand up to his face, pressing Eddie's fingers against his cheek. Richie reached out his left hand, brushing his fingers against Eddie's cheek. Eddie's stubble was scratchy against his skin, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie hoped to god that this wouldn't be the last time he'd be able to touch it.

"I actually thought I had lost you," Richie said, cupping Eddie's cheek in his hand. "I thought you had stopped breathing when we were down there in the sewers. The rest of the Losers were telling me to leave you there and just run. Not that I blame them. We all thought you were gone, and they just wanted to get the hell out of there. But I would have died before I left you behind. I couldn't bear the thought of your body down there for all eternity. I owe you so much more than a crumbling sewer that used to be the lair of that fucking clown as a final resting place. I love you too much for that."

A sob escaped from Richie and his bottom lip began trembling anew. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of Eddie's warm hand underneath his, on the stubble pressing into the palm of his hand. His Eddie was still alive. He had a second chance.

"You have no idea how happy I was when you started breathing again," Richie began again. He opened his eyes and stared firmly at Eddie, like that might make him stronger. Might make everything better. "I thought you were dead and you started gasping for air," Richie repeated, still not quite believing the way things had played out. "It was like my entire life had stopped and started again in the time it had taken to carry you out of the sewer.

"I can't believe I even considered leaving you down there for a second." Richie shook his head fiercely before he said, "You would have been buried alive in It's lair, and I would have had no idea that I left you down there to die. That would have killed me too. But I told you I couldn't. You risked your life to save mine, and I gladly risked mine to get you the hell out of there. And it was the best decision I've ever made."

Richie's voice was cracking again, so he paused, taking a moment to compose himself before he spoke again.

"You're not allowed to do this, you know," Richie said when he was sure his voice wouldn't shake anymore. "I need you. I need you like I need air to breath. Like you need that inhaler of yours," he added around a soft breath of laughter.

Richie considered this for a moment before he went on. "And I realize that that's about the most asinine thing to say considering the fact that we've done nothing but forget about each other for the last twenty-seven years." Richie frowned in thought and said, "But no. I don't think that's entirely true, because you never really forget your first love, do you? At least, I hope you don't. If you feel the same way."

Richie sighed heavily, his hand trailing down from Eddie's cheek to rest on his shoulder. "And this is probably the worst possible time to dump this sort of thing on you when you can't even tell me to shut the hell up and get my grubby little hands off you."

Withdrawing his hand from Eddie's shoulder, Richie curled it into a fist and pressed it against his chin. But try as he might, Richie still couldn't quite let go of Eddie's hand, the one he had pressed against his cheek. That was okay, wasn't it? Simply pressing a friend's hand against your cheek in a show of love?

Richie shut his eyes against the wave of emotions that suddenly started to hit him, but it didn't do any good. A sob escaped from him and tears began dripping down his cheeks again.

"I'm so scared," Richie suddenly confessed, slipping his free hand under his glasses and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Maybe even more scared than I've ever been of that damned clown. I'm terrified that I'm going to lose you before I ever have a chance to tell you how I feel. Then again, I'm afraid that if I do, you're going to hate me forever and I'll lose my best friend. I'm scared to death that the rest of the Losers will hate my guts when they find out-"

Richie broke off, straightening his glasses on his face and pressing a soft kiss to Eddie's fingers.

"This is so stupid, isn't it?" Richie asked. "That we can't even be honest with our own damn friends about how we feel."

Richie's eyes trailed away and up to Eddie's heart monitor, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of the lines on the screen. Richie took comfort in it somehow, in the regularity that Eddie's heart was beating. Richie felt so confused and his life felt so out of control, even more so than when It was still alive, it was nice to see that Eddie's heart was still beating strongly.

"I only pray to god that you won't hate me," Richie said after a while, his eyes going back to Eddie's face. "I think I could deal with everyone else hating me, but not you. I need you, Eddie. A hell of a lot more than I've shown you in these past twenty-seven years." Richie took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he said, "In which case, maybe I shouldn't tell you anything. I think I'd rather keep you as a friend than risk having you hate me. I don't know," he said miserably.

After a moment, Richie said, "About the only thing I do know right now is that you can't die. Because I don't know what I'd do without you. I need you to show that damned clown who's boss, okay? And while you're at it, you can show Henry Bowers who's the boss too."

Richie brushed a hand across the brand-new bandage on Eddie's left cheek, the one hiding the stitched-up wound that had happened just yesterday. Or had it been two days ago? Richie didn't even know anymore. The entire time in Derry had all blended together into one ongoing nightmare. All he was certain of was that he needed Eddie. He ran one hand through his hair, still keeping Eddie's hand firmly grasped in his other. He stared down at Eddie's hand then, at the pale and frail fingers laying over his.

"And I promise I won't forget about you again in the next twenty-seven years either," Richie told him. "I'm going to spend those years making up for those when we didn't speak. If you'll let me. But I told you that you never really forget your true love, and I didn't." Richie squinted his eyes, still trying to remember things, memories long since buried. "I mean, I always knew there had been someone special, I just couldn't quite remember who. I think it's probably why I never really had the urge to see anyone. Because why would I want anyone else when I could have had you? It's like I knew I had a soulmate out there, and I could tell whenever I met someone who wasn't it, so what was the point in even trying?"

Richie grew silent, his thoughts once against drifting towards Myra. To the fact that even if Eddie did return Richie's feelings, they still couldn't quite be together. It wouldn't be fair to Myra. It wouldn't be fair to the vows Eddie had made. As much as Richie wanted to hate her, she was still Eddie's wife, and that meant something.

Letting out a sigh, Richie said, "Not that I blame you for getting married. Whether or not you ever returned my feelings, or whether or not you ever _could_ return my feelings doesn't really matter. Twenty-seven years is a long damn time to put your love life on hold for someone that you might never see again. For someone that you don't even remember. You just wanted to try and settle down and try to find happiness."

Richie broke off, the truth of the situation hanging in the large and echoey room like a dark cloud. Richie would never come right out and say it, would never make such rude assumptions about Eddie's love life, but he knew Eddie wasn't happy. It was in the way Eddie spoke about Myra, the way his eyes always seemed to darken when she was thrown into the conversation.

Staring up at the ceiling, Richie shook his head. "Jesus, what a mess. Would things have worked out differently if I had told you all those years ago exactly how I felt?" Richie's eyes dropped back down to Eddie, as if the unconscious man would be able to give him all the answers he sought. "I don't know. We were still so young, I can't see how. I was still so confused about what I was feeling when I left this town, so god only knows how you would have reacted if I'd told you."

Richie ran his thumb across Eddie's fingers, almost silently praying that Eddie could do the same in return.

"Maybe I should have said something when we got back to Derry," Richie said miserably. "When I saw you standing there in the Jade of the Orient, I realized almost immediately what I'd forgotten. And I wonder if you felt anything even remotely close to what I did."

Richie broke off, licking his lips in thought. "I just wish you were awake so we could talk about this." He let out a quiet laugh before he added, "I've waited twenty-seven years to tell you how I feel, and you still have me waiting. But that's my fault." Richie's voice was now sorry, regretful. "So much wasted time, and I didn't use it."

"Richie?" Bill's voice came a moment later from the doorway.

Richie nearly jumped a mile in the air, feeling like he had been caught doing something wrong. Like a little child who had been looking at dirty magazines. Richie turned to face Bill, wondering exactly how long the other man had been standing there and how much he had heard Richie say.

"They want him to rest," Bill said, motioning for Richie to follow him.

"He is resting," Richie replied somewhat absently.

Bill frowned, looking like he was caught between a rock and a hard place. "Tell that to the doctors," Bill suggested. "They want him to have some peace and quiet for a while. You can come back in another hour or two."

Heaving a sigh, Richie looked back to Eddie for a moment. "They want me to leave, Spaghetti Man, but I'll be right outside, okay? I'll be back in as soon as they let me and not a moment later."

Richie brought Eddie's hand up to his lips again, pressing a kiss against Eddie's fingers once more. Richie was well aware of the fact that Bill could see him, and he really didn't care.

Another memory flashed across Richie's mind, and again, it was something Richie couldn't believe had ever forgotten.

* * *

_"__I don't know why you have to do things like this," Eddie mumbled behind him, sifting through his fanny pack for something._

_"__Like what?" Richie asked. "I'm just helping to clean up this town a little bit. I mean, really, people should be cleaning up after their dogs in the first place."_

_Richie was bent over in the grass on the side of the road, just next to steep slope that led down to the quarry. Henry Bowers's car was parked just a few feet away, and of course, Richie couldn't pass up the opportunity to be a pain in the ass._

_"__Let's not forget what happened the last time you and shit were involved with Bowers," Eddie muttered, still sorting through his medications. "I could have died from a goddamned asthma attack."_

_Richie paused in his search, glancing back over his shoulder at Eddie. "You have a full inhaler through, don't you? I thought you checked before you left the house."_

_"__That's what I'm double checking!" Eddie replied frantically, the bottles and pills clanging together in his fanny pack._

_"__Well then we're fine," Richie said, returning to his search._

_"__We're not fine!" Eddie snapped. "Don't you remember what I told you before about dog turds? It can contain millions of coliform bacteria which can cause diarrhea, cramps, intestinal problems, and it can cause your kidneys to shut down! And you're picking that shit up with your bare hands!"_

_Having found what he had been looking for, Richie stood up. "It's been sitting out the sun for days. It's dry as a bone," Richie said, waving the dog turd around for Eddie to see._

_"__And you keep the hell away from me with that thing," Eddie warned, beginning to back away from his friend. "Don't even think about touching me until you've washed your hands either. I'm not going to end up in the hospital again, because you suddenly have this obsession with Henry Bowers and dogshit."_

_Richie had made his way our of the grass and over to Henry's car. "Bowers is dogshit," Richie said, promptly setting down the dog poop in the middle of Henry's front seat. "I'm just putting shit in the proper receptacle. It's his own damn fault anyway, always leaving his top down, where people can do god knows what to his car."_

_Richie ran the palms of his hands on the backside of his shorts, making his way back over to Eddie._

_"__And you keep your distance!" Eddie yelled, putting up his hands and backing away from Richie. "Wiping your hands on your pants doesn't do jack shit to remove the bacteria swarming over them. You want to risk your life, that's fine, but I'm not-"_

_"__Not what?" Richie asked, continuing to make his way closer to Eddie. "Going to contract something you probably already got from your mother?"_

_Eddie rolled his eyes in the ridiculously adorable way of his, the one that always made Richie's breath catch in his throat now._

_"__Beep beep, Richie."_

* * *

If Eddie was at all conscious right now, Richie was sure he would have blushed, rolled his eyes in the same loveable way, and told him _beep beep_.

And perhaps kissing Eddie, even if it was just his hand, in front of the others was crossing the line. Richie wasn't even sure anymore, nor didn't know why he kept doing it. Or maybe he did. Maybe Richie really wanted them to call him out so he wouldn't have to come out of the damn closet on his own.

Finally, Richie stood up, gently setting Eddie's hand down on the mattress. Richie laid his hand over Eddie's for a long moment, wishing the stupid ass doctors really knew what was best for Eddie. Richie sincerely doubted that leaving Eddie in a room all by himself was really what they should be doing, but it appeared that he had little choice in the matter.

Against his own better judgment, Richie lifted his hand from Eddie's and turned to follow Bill from the room. When he got to the doorway, Richie paused, turning back to stare long and hard at Eddie. At the man that he now knew he loved the most in this world. At the man that he never wanted to leave again, but everyone else around him was always seeming to decide against that.

Richie gripped the doorjamb tightly in his fingers before he turned and followed Bill out to the waiting area. The rest of the Losers were still there, getting up from their seats and turning towards Richie as if waiting for an update.

Richie, however, wasn't even sure what to tell them. That Eddie had appeared pale and weak? That he was terrified that Eddie might never speak to him again? That Richie was madly in love with Eddie and simply wanted to stay there with him?

"He's a mess," Richie finally settled on, which had been his very first thought when he'd walked into Eddie's room. "I don't know what else you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Beverly said, crossing the room to him and placing a hand on his arm.

"No, you don't," Ben agreed. "But it's well past lunchtime, so maybe we should go on down to the cafeteria while we wait. None of us have eaten since yesterday."

"We just came out of the damn sewer," Richie reminded them, "and you want us to go get something to eat?"

Richie wasn't sure where his words had even come from, or why he seemed to be channeling Eddie all of a sudden. Somebody had to, he supposed, in their friend's absence.

"Or we can go back to the inn and get washed up," Mike suggested. "That's actually probably a better idea, then we can get something to eat."

Richie shook his head defiantly. "I'm not leaving. Not until we know he's going to be okay."

"Richie-" Bill said, but Richie immediately cut him off.

"I'm not," Richie repeated. "You guys can go, but I'm staying. Eddie needs me here."

"Richie," Bill tried again, "there's nothing-"

Just then, Bill was interrupted by a loud beeping sound coming over the hospital's loudspeaker system. All of the Losers instinctually glanced upward, waiting for the disembodied voice that they all knew was coming.

"Attention. We have a Code Blue in emergency room four. Repeat, Code Blue in emergency room four. All available staff, please report."

It only took Richie a few seconds to process what had been said, then he immediately launched himself towards the large double doors to the emergency ward.

"That's Eddie's room!" Richie screamed, reaching for the large silver bar that ran across the width of the door.

Before he could reach it, however, there were multiple sets of hands upon him. The Losers had grabbed him, holding him back, just as they had done when they had been trying to get him to leave the sewer.

"Something's wrong with Eddie!" Richie yelled. He twisted and turned his body frantically in an attempt to get away from his friends.

"And they're going to help him," Ben said calmly, his hands clenched tightly around Richie's left bicep. "You'll just be in the way in there."

"They need room to work, Rich," Mike agreed, his arm looped tightly around Richie's right shoulder.

They were wrong. God damnit, they were so very wrong. Eddie had known he was there, and Richie had never been more certain of that. Eddie had been fine as long as Richie had been there, and it was only when he left that something had happened. Eddie needed him, so why was everyone trying to keep Richie away from him?

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3: My Dirty Little Secret

**Brave  
**Chapter 3 – My Dirty Little Secret

_Eddie thought he was dying. Or maybe he was already dead. He wasn't entirely sure._

_Everything was pitch black and that darkness seemed to spread out around him for miles. He couldn't see a single thing around him in any direction, and when he tried to get up, he couldn't move. Eddie couldn't even lift an arm to reach out for something, anything._

_And he wanted to. If he was honest with himself, he wanted to reach out for Richie. He wanted to call out to Richie too, but Eddie's mouth didn't seem to be working either._

_He just was, floating in some motionless, unending void. Fear erupted inside of Eddie for a moment, and he wondered if he was caught inside the Dead Lights. Was this what it was? Was this what it felt like? Just…nothing?_

_But no. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, Eddie thought he could remember Beverly telling them about her time in the Dead Lights, and this wasn't what she had described at all. She had talked about seeing them as adults and seeing how they died. Eddie couldn't see anything at all, not even his own body. Only blackness._

_And oh god, Eddie remembered Richie being caught in the Dead Lights himself, and Eddie's heart hurt for him. Eddie couldn't stand the thought of anyone or anything having that kind of control over his Richie, and it made him crazy._

_Eddie tried to call out for Richie again, but his mouth still wouldn't move and no sound came out. He couldn't even scream. Did he have vocal cords at all anymore? Did he have a body? Did he have…anything?_

_But Eddie knew the answer to that, because he could feel a certain warmth and weight over what he thought was his hand. Almost like someone was holding it. Eddie liked that feeling and he wished that it would grow to envelope the rest of him._

_"__They want me leave, Spaghetti Man," came Richie's disembodied voice from out of the darkness._

_Eddie hated when Richie used that stupid nickname for him, but hearing it filled Eddie with comfort, because he knew Richie was there. Oh god, Richie was there, but someone was making him leave. The vague warmth that had been on his hand was gone a moment later, and Eddie ached for it to return. Somewhere in the back of Eddie's mind, he was certain that Richie had been holding his hand, but that was crazy, wasn't it?_

_Eddie desperately tried to reach up his hand, to regain the warmth and weight that had been there just a moment before, but Eddie still couldn't move. He still couldn't speak, and Eddie desperately wanted to scream for Richie to come back. For Richie to help him make some sort of sense out of this emptiness he was currently in._

_Eddie strained to call the other man's name, and he could almost taste it on his lips, but not quite. There was nothing there, because Eddie was completely and utterly alone in total darkness. The way he'd been his entire life. Except when he had been with the Losers. But now they were gone too._

_Why did it seem like everyone always wanted Eddie to end up all alone? There wasn't even anything Eddie could do about it, because he was trapped in some sort of reality – or maybe death – where no single part of him worked. Not his arms, not his legs, not his mouth, and not his voice._

_Eddie couldn't even call out to the person he needed most in the world, and that was probably the most insane thought of all. Why did Eddie's thoughts always return to his loud, gross, trash-talking friend who seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with making jokes about Eddie's mother?_

_It was because there was absolutely no one in this entire world that knew Eddie as well as Richie did. It was stupid and it was crazy, but it was true. Certainly not Eddie's mother and definitely not his wife. All they knew was how to control Eddie and impose their smothering ways on him. The only time Eddie felt like he could even be himself and breathe like a normal person was when he was with Richie. His stupid friend who also knew how to push his buttons._

_But at the same time, why did Richie always seem to know exactly what he needed? Even when they were in It's lair and Eddie thought he needed his inhaler more than anything, Richie knew better. Richie always knew better. He'd grabbed Eddie's inhaler away from him and talked him down, told him how brave he was without even realizing it, and listed off everything he'd done that was brave. And it was in that moment, with Richie's hand over his that Eddie could breathe again all at once. _

_And right now, Eddie knew he needed Richie. He wanted the warmth of Richie's had over his. He wanted the calmness that Richie's touch, Richie's skin against his always seemed to give him._

_But it wasn't there. He was alone and it hurt to breathe again._

* * *

In the end, Richie resigned himself to the fact that the Losers weren't going to let him leave the waiting room. He ended up at the large windows overlooking the parking lot and the bank of trees beyond. Richie stood there unmoving, his hands on his hips and his back to the rest of the room. To the rest of the Losers.

There was a wooden fence marking the barrier between the parking lot and the trees, and it vaguely reminded Richie of the Kissing Bridge. He stared at it for a long time, feeling the urge to commemorate his love for Eddie there as well. To go outside with his pocket knife and carve _R+E_ into the wood, into the location that would ultimately be the place where Eddie lost his life.

Richie was positive of that now – Eddie wasn't going to make it. He'd been stabbed in the face by a fucking madman, impaled through the chest by a demon, lost a ridiculous amount of blood, and nearly stopped breathing in the process. Richie kept trying to remind himself of Bill's words earlier – that Eddie hadn't survived all of that just to die at the hospital. But Richie wasn't so sure anymore. How much more could he take?

Eddie was already so small and frail. Richie almost couldn't believe Eddie's heart had continued to beat through all of this, but it had to give out at some point, didn't it? Maybe that was what happened when the announcement had come over the loudspeaker – Eddie's heart had stopped beating once and for all. Either that, or Eddie had stopped breathing again. Wasn't that what 'code blue' meant?

Richie felt numb. So very much had happened in the last few days, and he didn't think he could even process anything anymore. He kept waiting for the tears to start falling again, but they never did.

This was so stupid. His Eddie was dying – in fact, he may even already be dead – and they wouldn't let Richie be with him. Wouldn't even let Richie hold his hand as the love of his life left this world. That was all Richie wanted – to hold Eddie's hand and maybe even kiss his head. To let Eddie know that he wasn't alone as his life finally slipped away.

When he heard the doors to the emergency ward open, Richie didn't even bother turning around. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other Losers getting up out of their chairs and making their way over to the doctor. Richie still didn't move from his spot. The doctor was just going to tell them that Eddie was dead, so what was the point?

"Eddie went into respiratory arrest," the doctor said.

Richie let out a heavy sigh, his eyes going up towards the sky. Again, he thought about how ridiculous all of this was. Why didn't the doctor just cut to the chase already and flat out tell them that Eddie was dead? Quit beating around the damn bush. There was no need to drag this out any longer than needed.

"We provided him with some pressurized oxygen through a mask for a while," the doctor explained, "and we were able to get him breathing on his own again."

Richie's breath caught in his throat and he finally turned around to face the rest of the room. "You mean he's alive?" Richie asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Doctor Muschietti nodded. "He's stable again. Given how much blood he's lost and his history with asthma, this wasn't entirely unexpected."

"He doesn't _have_ asthma," Richie said impatiently. "He has anxiety."

The doctor only spared Richie a quick glance before he said, "Well, respiratory distress or arrest can be common after losing such a large volume of blood. We were prepared for it and acted quickly before any other complications could develop. The transfusions he's receiving should help to strengthen his respiratory function, and we'll continue to monitor him in case he goes into arrest again."

"I need to see him," Richie said, quickly making his way around the group of Losers and the doctor towards the double doors. He didn't even wait for permission from the doctor, nor did he care. What were they going to do? Throw Richie out of the hospital for needing to see the person that he loved the most on this planet while he still had the chance?

"Just for a _little while_!" the doctor stressed, calling after him. "He needs his rest!"

Richie didn't stop and he had pushed through the doors before the doctor had even finished speaking. He was getting more second chances with Eddie than he thought he even deserved, and Richie wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of taking them ever again. In fact, it was probably the fact that they had made Richie leave Eddie's room in the first place that had caused all of this nonsense, but Richie chose to bite his tongue.

When he got to Eddie's room, Richie slowly approached the bed and said, "You don't have to try and get my attention, you know. You have that already."

Richie sat down on the edge of the bed again, wrapping a hand around Eddie's and cupping Eddie's bandaged cheek with the other.

"I told you I was right outside," Richie told him, running his thumb over Eddie's cheek. "I'm not leaving until I know you're going to be okay. You really didn't have to cause this big fuss just to get me back in here."

Richie suddenly leaned forward, pressing his lips against Eddie's forehead. He pulled away slightly, but then he turned his head and pressed his cheek against Eddie's.

"Don't leave me," Richie whispered in his ear, closing his eyes as the words escaped his lips. "Please? I can't lose you. Not now. Not like this. Bill said you didn't survive being stabbed by a giant fucking demon claw in the damn sewer just to die in the hospital. And damn it, prove him right. Keep breathing, okay?"

Richie lifted his head, but kept his face close to Eddie's watching him closely. "I have so much to tell you that I never talked about before. I kept telling myself when I was out in the waiting room that I was just going to do it. I was going to take this chance I've been given, but…I just don't know how."

Richie's words died in his throat and he immediately straightened, as if he realized that what was doing and saying was wholly inappropriate. Suddenly those fears creeping back in again. Richie almost felt like he was getting constant whiplash, going back and forth between wanting to proclaim his love to Eddie and then chickening out all over again. Richie sighed, hunching over and hanging his head in shame. However, he wasn't entirely sure if that was caused by what he was feeling or the fact that he was simply too afraid to tell Eddie how he really felt.

"Jesus," Richie muttered, staring down at Eddie intently. "This is difficult." Richie laughed before he added, "You're not even awake and I'm still terrified of telling you the truth. But if I can't even do it now, how am I going to do it once you're awake? I mean, I've alluded to it, but I still haven't come right out and said it. And I feel like I need to. Just promise me you won't hate me once I do, okay?"

For the briefest moment, Eddie's hand tightened around Richie's, but almost as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Richie looked down at Eddie's hand in disbelief, waiting for it to move again, but it remained still.

"Eddie?" Richie asked, but Eddie was now motionless.

Richie wasn't sure if Eddie could hear him or not. He wasn't even sure if Eddie would be able to respond to him in such a fashion if he could. But maybe, just maybe, Eddie was reassuring Richie that he could never hate him.

All at once, Richie could feel his emotions running back into him. It was like that floodgate that had formed in the waiting room suddenly broke open, and it was like a tidal wave engulfing Richie.

Richie closed his eyes against it, but the tears that had suddenly formed leaked through his eyelids and down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again, Richie frowned deeply with emotion, staring down at Eddie like his life depended on it.

Leaning forward over Eddie's prone form, Richie let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Richie squeezed Eddie's hand even more tightly in both of his, hoping that it just might give him the courage to say what he needed to.

Richie took one last deep breath, then he finally whispered, "I love you."

Only the steady beeping of Eddie's heart monitor met his ears. Richie hadn't exactly been expecting Eddie to answer him, of course, but the lack of a response was awkward nonetheless. At least Eddie wasn't ripping his hand out of Richie's grasp or something, which was almost what Richie thought would happen. Richie supposed that was something.

Richie frowned, suddenly feeling the urge to say it again. To make sure Eddie was aware of exactly how much Richie cared for him.

"I love you," Richie repeated, his breathing suddenly coming in heavy gasps. "I've loved you for I don't even know how long."

Richie paused, his eyes going back to their hands, still clasped together. It was as if Richie was silently praying for Eddie to squeeze his hand back again, to let Richie know that this was okay. That Richie wasn't completely ruining things between them by coming clean. That Eddie might even feel the same way towards him.

But nothing came.

Still, Richie tried to steel himself, to keep going despite the ridiculous sense of dread that was now growing and festering inside him. After all, Richie had already come this far; if Eddie was going to hate him, then Richie was going to go all in. All or nothing.

"But I do remember when I realized it," Richie admitted, his eyes traveling up Eddie's bandaged chest and to his face again. He let out a soft breath of laughter before he said, "And we can all thank Henry Bowers for it. It was after he called me out for wanting to bone his little cousin."

Richie broke off, diverting his eyes to Eddie's heart monitor in embarrassment. Richie could feel his cheeks growing warm, but he clenched his teeth against it. If his friendship with Eddie was ruined, then the damage was already done, and nothing else he could admit would change that.

"There I was in the arcade," Richie continued quietly, his eyes slowly going back to Eddie, "and fucking Bowers had just thrown me out of the closet. That was when we and the rest of the Losers weren't speaking that summer – after you broke your arm. And I was desperately trying to find someone to replace you."

Richie stopped, frowning deeply, but his eyes still never left Eddie's face. "I knew I never could replace you, of course, but that didn't stop me from trying," Richie admitted. "You guys never liked those video games, so I figured I'd at least try and make a friend who did. His name was Connor," Richie said around a heavy sigh.

He sat and stared at Eddie for a long time before he said, "But it wasn't anything like that." Richie shook his head furiously, feeling like he had to justify himself against…what? It wasn't like he and Eddie had ever had any sort of relationship to speak of. Richie just didn't want Eddie to think that there had ever been anyone else before him, even when they had been children.

"We enjoyed playing Street Fighter," Richie explained, "that was all. Bowers got entirely the wrong idea and started yelling…things." Richie hung his head, feeling his cheeks growing warm, even though there was no one there to see him. When Richie spoke again, his voice was much quieter than it had been.

"Things about how I wanted to bone Connor and…he called me names," Richie whispered, frowning deeply. "I wanted to yell back that it wasn't true, but…I couldn't. I mean, I didn't want to fuck Connor, but…the rest of it was true." Richie paused, swallowing audibly before he added, "Then I wanted to scream about how I didn't have those feelings for Connor, because I had them for someone else entirely. But I couldn't do that either, because then Bowers would know that at least part of what he was saying was true."

Richie's heart had started to beat unnaturally hard in his chest; he had never said any of these things out loud before, and a part of him still wanted to lock these feelings away inside of him forever. But no. Richie still wanted to come clean to Eddie about his feelings. He was done squandering away his chances and the years. Richie was starting to believe Eddie just might be okay after all, and he'd be damned if he was going to throw away this second chance. Or was it a third chance now? Richie wasn't even sure anymore.

Richie was still scared to death about what Eddie would think of him, but Richie kept reminding himself if he couldn't say these things now, he would never be able to tell Eddie when he was awake. It was now or never, Richie supposed.

"I never told you guys about that," Richie said when the beating of his heart had slowed a bit. "I'm still scared to death about what you and the rest of the Losers will think of me, so you can imagine what I was feeling when I was thirteen."

Richie trailed off, glancing up at Eddie's heart monitor again, listening to the solid beeping and the green lines moving across the screen. Richie was comforted by the fact that even though Eddie's breathing might have been erratic (which was par for the course with Eddie), at least it seemed like his heart had continued to beat solid and strong.

When he looked back down at Eddie, Richie said, "But I still felt like I had to tell someone. I had kept it pent up inside of me for so long, and Bowers's words made it feel like it was absolutely about to burst out of me." Richie's voice cracked when he said, "But I still felt like I couldn't tell you, so…I went to the Kissing Bridge."

Richie suddenly realized just how stupid it sounded now that he said it out loud. He didn't feel like he could be honest with his best friends in the world, but he felt like he could tell a goddamned piece of wood of all things.

"I used my pocket knife and I carved 'R plus E' into one of the boards," Richie finally admitted at long last. He laughed breathlessly, but then his breath hitched in his throat. He sucked a quick breath back in and said, "That was pretty cowardly, wasn't it? Like I'm one to talk to you about being brave when I can't even be honest about my feelings to the people who are supposed to be my very best friends. To the person that I've loved most in this world for the last twenty-seven years. Maybe even longer."

Staring at his hands over Eddie's again, Richie ran his thumb over across Eddie's fingers. Richie wondered if Eddie would roll his eyes and pull his hand away if he was awake. Wondered if Eddie would be disgusted at the sight of him.

"Remember on the fourth of July when were talking about what scared us the most?" Richie asked. "I told you guys I was afraid of clowns. Except it wasn't true. Not really." Richie considered this before he added, "I think I am now, but I wasn't then. I just picked clowns, because you guys were talking about seeing one, and there were clowns up on the bandstand…"

Richie broke off, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I hadn't seen It yet, don't forget," Richie went on after a moment. "I knew what I was afraid of, but I wasn't entirely sure how it was going to manifest. Even Pennywise didn't get it at first, and that's crazy to think about. I mean, it made that Paul Bunyan statue in the town square come to life. That was the first time I saw it, and…that sort of makes sense, doesn't it? What larger symbol of masculinity is there than Paul Bunyan, and yes, I suppose a part of me was afraid of people thinking otherwise about me. But that still wasn't what scared me the most." Richie let out a breathless laugh before he added, "When did It ever have a problem figuring out what scared us the most? But I think It did right then. Richie Tozier was much too complicated for even a fucking space clown."

Considering this, Richie added, "Then when we went to Neibolt Street for the first time, it was showing me fucking clowns. Maybe as a way to mock me, because that's what I said I feared. I don't know. But in the end, It did figure it out. Holy shit, It figured it out." Richie bowed his head, staring intently at his fingers intertwined with Eddie's again. "It was mocking me, just like Bowers that day in the arcade, except…it was worse. So much worse than even I could have imagined, and it was something I feared ever since Bowers first said those words to me."

Richie sucked in a breath, feeling the tears building up behind his eyes again. "It was after I went to find my artifact and I went back to the town square. First It showed me Adrian Mellon – that last victim of It's before Mike called us. Then It was on that fucking Paul Bunyan statue, and he kept telling me he knew my 'dirty little secret'. Those were the words he used – 'dirty little secret'. Like it was something I needed to be ashamed of just like I always thought." The tears had welled up and dripped over his eyelids again, spilling down his cheeks.

Shaking his head furiously, Richie stared up at the ceiling, wishing for this horrible feeling inside himself to go away. Wishing that he didn't feel like he was committing some horrible crime against humanity for simple _loving_ another man.

Richie suddenly didn't feel like he could keep it inside any longer. He had done so for twenty-seven years, maybe even longer, and it now it felt like it had grown so ridiculously huge and powerful, he couldn't continue to hide it. Richie was so very tired of trying to keep it locked away in that little part in the back of his brain. Richie was tired of pretending that he wasn't in love with the man laying motionless in front of him. He just didn't want to lie anymore.

Shaking his head, Richie glanced past Eddie's bed to the bank of windows on the far wall. He took a deep breath, trying his best to keep himself calm even though his fear was becoming almost suffocating to him. At the same time, however, he felt like the lies had grown so much, they were starting to poison him from the inside out. Richie felt like he was developing sepsis from the entire lie his life had been. That's what Eddie would have called it anyway.

"That's crazy, isn't it?" Richie asked, fixing his eyes on Eddie once more. "Nearly my entire life has been a lie, because I've been too afraid to admit something so very simple as the fact that I'm in love. I don't want to have to lie anymore."

When Richie stopped, the silence in the room was almost deafening to him. Even the steady _beep beep_ of Eddie's heart monitor seemed a thousand miles away. Richie's heart was pounding, the sound of it rushing in his ears and blocking out almost everything else. Even Eddie's own rhythmic breathing.

Richie's face contorted with emotions, more tears continuing to spill down his cheeks. "Jesus Christ," Richie gasped, "I love you, Eddie." Richie sucked in a shuddering breath and added, "Lying about my feelings for you for twenty-seven years is too damn much, and I can't do it anymore. So I love you," he said, much more quietly this time. "And I've never stopped."

"I don't know what you're going to do with that," Richie said around a sigh. He shook his head and added, "Whether you'll hate me or not, I don't know. And whether the rest of the Losers will hate me is anyone's guess. I'm just so sick and tired of lying. Of hiding. Of pretending that I'm someone that I don't even recognize. I want to be me. I want to be Richie Tozier, and as much as I've tried to pretend it isn't true, he loves Eddie Kaspbrak. He loves his best friend. Ever since we were kids lying in the hammock and you kept putting your stinky ass feet in my face. And goddamn it, they were _stinky_. Don't ever forget that, Spaghetti Man."

Richie suddenly realized he was smiling at the memory, and when he spoke next, the joy was evident in his voice. "But if you had any idea just what that did to me, having your warm skin pressed up against mine. And yes, even those sweaty feet in my face. And you were doing it just to be a little turd, weren't you? You were so oblivious to what the fuck was actually going on."

"At least I think you were." Richie frowned in thought. "I don't know. You were always so damn astute and knew so much stupid information about graywater, and listeria, and staph infections, and the types of bacteria in _dog turds_ of all things. I mean, who knows about that sort of thing?"

Richie was smiling now and he cupped Eddie's cheek again, running the backs of his fingers over Eddie's bare skin.

"Except my Eddie," Richie said warmly. "And if you ever get out of this damn hospital, and if you let me, I'm going to take you to the Kissing Bridge. I'm going to show you exactly where I carved our initials into the wood twenty-seven years ago, and we're going to trace our fingers over those marks. And if you don't completely hate me, we can go over them with my pocket knife again and make them deeper and stronger."

* * *

_All at once, Eddie's crooked world righted itself. Richie's hand was over his again and Richie's fingers were pressed against his cheek. And Richie was saying things Eddie never thought he'd get the man to admit in a million years. Eddie felt whole, and right, and complete. He felt calm, and it felt like Eddie's breathing was becoming easier and deeper the longer Richie's hands were there. The longer his skin was against Eddie's. Eddie still couldn't move or speak, but it was okay. Richie was there._

_His Richie._

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4: Kiss with Destiny

**Brave  
**Chapter 4 – Kiss with Destiny

When the doctors finally forced Richie out of Eddie's room so that he could rest, Richie meandered back out into the waiting room. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his pants, his head bowed low.

Richie almost felt like everything he had just confessed to an unconscious Eddie was now plain for the world to see. That everyone that looked at him would know and that they were all silently judging him for it. It was stupid, but it was still enough to make Richie feel even worse than he had before. How was that possible?

"How is he?" Beverly asked, startling Richie from his thoughts.

Richie jumped a bit, feeling her eyes and those of the rest of the Losers burning into him. They were knowing. Judging.

"I…" Richie began, but he'd had no clue what he had been about to say. Maybe he meant to start defending himself against accusations that weren't even there. Richie shook his head, trying his best to force those thoughts from his head. "About the same," he said instead. He took a deep breath and added, "He's still stable, but…who knows?"

Beverly placed a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. She leaned her head against it next, trying her best to offer Richie some form of comfort.

"Listen, man," Bill said, "we really need to get cleaned up. "We're starting to reek."

"Yeah," Mike agreed, "and the people that are coming through here keep staring and scrunching their noses up at us. It's rather off-putting."

So many of Richie's thoughts and emotions had been entirely consumed by Eddie that it hadn't even occurred to him just how rank he really was. Now that he took a moment to look down at himself, it was almost enough to make him sick. Richie's tan pants were now almost black with sewer water and filth as was his t-shirt. His once vibrant yellow button-up was now a murky brown with deep red splotches of Eddie's blood on it.

Dear god, Richie hadn't even realized that he was wearing Eddie's blood.

"Imagine what Eddie would say if he knew you were sitting on his nice clean hospital bed looking like that," Bill said, waving a hand towards Richie clothes.

"I only wish Eddie was awake to tell me those things!" Richie snapped, feeling the stress and lack of sleep over the last few days beginning to take its toll on him. That and Richie was getting sick of people telling him what to do. Especially when they said he needed to leave Eddie's room. Or the hospital at all.

Bill flinched slightly, making Richie feel horrible. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, stepping away from the group for a moment. Richie took a few slow steps back towards the window, bowing his head and running his hands through his hair.

"Don't worry about it," Bill said. He took a few steps towards Richie, but stopped short. "But we really do need to get cleaned up."

Richie didn't say anything, nor did he feel the need to. He had already made it abundantly clear that he wasn't leaving this damn hospital until he knew that Eddie was going to be okay. Richie certainly didn't think it necessary to repeat himself.

An awkward silence had filled the room before Ben said, "No one's going to make you leave, Rich, but at least let us bring you a change of clothes. Maybe the staff will even take pity on you and let you have a shower somewhere."

Richie slowly turned to face the rest of the group and agreed, "Yeah." He stuck a hand deep in his pants pocket, his fingers closing around the key to his room at the inn. At least that much hadn't been lost during their trek through the sewers. Thank god for small favors. When he pulled the key out, he held it out for Ben. "Just grab whatever," Richie said, placing the key into Ben's hand.

"Let us bring you some food too," Beverly offered.

Richie made a face, feeling absolutely revulsed by the idea of eating anything right now. He knew that it was going on towards dinnertime; it had been well over twenty-four hours since any of them had eaten anything, but Richie couldn't stand the idea of putting anything near his mouth. His stomach was tied up in entirely too many knots to even feel hungry.

"Just some soup?" Beverly suggested. "It's easy to eat and it might even make you feel better."

Richie just nodded simply. "All right," he said, but then something occurred to him. "Anything but tomato soup, okay? I don't think I can stand that color right now." Richie's stomach clenched at the thought.

"All right," Beverly agreed. "What's your favorite?"

"Uh," Richie stammered for a moment. He let out a soft laugh before he said, "It's actually wedding soup. And why the _fuck_ do they call it wedding soup?"

It was strange how certain life or death situations could make people think about the most off-the-wall shit.

"Because the soup is a marriage between meat and vegetables," Ben offered, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Really?" Richie asked, immediately glancing up at him. "Well, that's stupid. Aren't a lot of other soups a marriage between meat and vegetables? What about chicken noodle? And bean and bacon? What about New England Clam Chowder? And goddamned beef and vegetable soup?"

The other Losers started to roll their eyes and turn away from him, and Richie didn't know why he was doing this. It was a stupid thing to harp on, but it felt sort of good to once again fall into the role of being a thorn in their sides.

He only wished that Eddie was awake to be a part of it. That thought hurt his heart, and he hung his head, closing his eyes against the emotions that it stirred up.

"We'll be back," Mike said, turning back to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Call us if there are any changes."

Richie nodded his head and opened his eyes. He'd been about to say something, but then something caught his eye, making his lose his train of thought. There was a newspaper – that morning's copy of the Daily Derry – sitting on the chair next to his leg.

What caught Richie's attention was the headline – _SUSPECTS SOUGHT IN HATE CRIME_. Richie's stomach clenched even more tightly at these words, but then his eye was drawn to something peculiar. There was a picture of Adrian Mellon tucked next to the byline.

"Mike?" Richie asked, reaching down to pick up the paper. When Mike turned back to him once again, Richie pointed at the paper, "You said Adrian Mellon was the last of It's victims before you called us."

Mike nodded, stepping next to Richie to look down at the paper. "He was," Mike said. "This happened just before. Adrian and his partner Don were jumped by four men at the Derry carnival. They beat Adrian up pretty badly and dumped him in the river, but Don said he was still alive. Don ran down the riverbank after him, but he was already reaching the far shore. Don said he saw someone over there, and he thought he was going to help Adrian, but…"

"It was Pennywise," Richie finished for him.

"Yeah," Mike said, nodding and then closing his eyes against his next words. "He...ate Adrian's heart out."

"Christ," Richie said, not just because of the gruesomeness of Mike's words, but because it suddenly all made sense.

This was why Richie had seen Adrian in the town square just before Pennywise had started singing that godawful song to him. It was because Adrian was gay just like Richie. At the time, Richie had been certain that the reincarnation of Adrian was just Pennywise taunting him about the fact that they had been called back at all. Adrian had been the lynchpin that had plunged them all back into this nightmare.

But that wasn't it and Pennywise fucking knew it. Adrian had been there for the simple fact that he was gay. Just another of It's ways to call him out on sexuality.

Richie stared down at Adrian's picture smiling up at him, a stark contrast to the fate that had befallen him. That had befallen all of them. Richie ran his thumb over the picture, frowning deeply and feeling his eyes burn again.

This was exactly why Richie had to hide who he was. Why Richie had to live a fucking lie inside a closet. Because of shit like this. Because there were people who would hate him just because of who he loved. Those big, black bold letters, those awful words – _hate crime_ – burned into his vision and remained there, flashing across his eyes even when he looked up at the rest of the room.

Everyone else's eyes were on him, burning into him. Seeing. Knowing. Richie felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment and he diverted his glance to that stupid, awful, ugly carpet beneath his soiled sneakers.

Beverly was at his other side again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders comfortingly. Although Richie found it ironic that she really had no idea what in hell she was comforting him for. If only she and the rest of the Losers knew.

"We won't be gone long," Beverly said next, giving his shoulders one last squeeze.

Richie nodded, watching what was left of his group of friends file from the waiting room. Then Richie was left with his thoughts. And the newspaper in his hands.

Richie stared down at Adrian Mellon's picture again, trying his best to keep from looking at the words that accompanied the article. Richie really didn't need to know the details. All he did know was that this town – and the rest of the world – would never be accepting of people like him, and Adrian, and Don.

His knees suddenly didn't feel like they could support his weight. Richie felt them buckling underneath him, and he was grateful for the uncomfortable chair nearby. He almost collapsed into it and curled in on himself. He hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his head into his hands. Into the newspaper that he still held. It crinkled underneath his fingers and Richie didn't know why, but that sound alone was enough to make him start crying again.

This time, Richie didn't try and stop it. There was no one else there to see him, to hear him, so he let the tears falls, let the sobs thunder through his body. It was everything that had happened over the last few days, from returning to this horrid town and remembering everything to nearly losing Eddie in the final battle with It. Hell, it was everything that had happened in Richie's life. All the stupid run-ins with Henry Bowers and his gang to trying to fight It when they were stupid, unprepared children. But most of all, it was nearly thirty years of simply being ashamed of who he was.

Richie was tired of it all and he no longer had the strength to deny it. No longer had the strength to push back the cries that wracked his body. No longer had the strength to pretend that he was okay, because he wasn't. And so the tears came.

* * *

Thankfully, one of the nurses had actually taken pity on Richie and allowed him to use a shower. Truth be told, Richie thought it was because the nurse recognized Bill and was a bit smitten with him, but Richie was grateful nonetheless.

Richie hadn't realized exactly how gross and grimy he was until he started trying to scrub some of the shit off. The filthy sewer water had penetrated his clothes and soaked into his skin, leaving stains that he had to go over and over with the washcloth. There were dark red stains on his stomach, ones that Richie was pretty sure were Eddie's blood, actually living on his skin.

Richie stopped scrubbing then, watching the red, and brown, and black water swirl down the drain. This made his face scrunch up with emotion again and a moment later, the tears had returned. He thought he had cried everything out while he had been in the waiting room, but apparently not. Richie leaned his forehead against the smooth plastic wall of the shower. He brought his hands up next, forming them into fists, and placing them against the wall on either side of his head. Clenching his teeth, Richie pounded his first against the wall and started sobbing again.

Richie didn't know how long he had been in the shower, but it had been a ridiculously long time. His fingertips were wrinkled and his skin was bright red, scrubbed almost raw. When Richie finally turned the water off, dried himself, and put clean clothes on, he was almost shocked by how much better he felt. He only spared himself a glance in the mirror, hoping that his face wasn't too red or swollen to betray the fact that he had been crying his eyes out.

True to their words, the Losers had brought him a take-out container of soup and a couple pieces of toasted, crusty garlic bread. It was still warm, and the scent itself made Richie's stomach clench in hunger.

While he was eating, the other Losers took turns visiting Eddie. Richie realized just how much of Eddie's time he had been usurping since they had gotten there and thus far, he had been the only one to see Eddie. Richie knew he should feel bad and selfish, but he didn't.

* * *

And so life at the hospital continued. Richie spent as much time as possible at Eddie's bedside, holding his hand and talking to him, although Richie never once made mention of his feelings for Eddie again. Richie had tried to push those feelings aside and concentrated on being there for Eddie, only letting him know that he wasn't alone and telling him that he would get through this.

Richie spent what were largely sleepless nights in uncomfortable positions in chairs either next to Eddie's bed or out in the waiting area. The Losers kept trying to get Richie to come back to the townhouse with them, but he refused. Richie had meant what he said when he told them that he wasn't leaving until he knew that Eddie would be okay. So what if Richie was sleep deprived and developed a back condition in the process? Eddie was worth all of that and more.

Eddie had been moved to the intensive care unit and after six days, the doctor announced that he would begin weaning Eddie off of the sedatives that were keeping him in his coma. It would take another day or two for Eddie to wake up, but this knowledge made Richie antsy as fuck.

Richie kept reminding himself that there was absolutely no reason that to believe that Eddie had heard any of his embarrassing confessions. At the same time, however, Richie kept thinking that Eddie was going to look at him differently. That Eddie was going to know somehow and judge him for all of it and more.

The day Eddie woke up, Richie was sitting on the edge of his bed like normal. Against his better judgment, Richie was still holding Eddie's hand like he was clinging on for dear life. Richie imagined that when Eddie woke up, he might be so disgusted that he would pull his hand right out of Richie's and tell him to get the hell out.

Richie was hunched over, staring down at their hands, hoping and praying that that didn't happen. Richie just wanted to have his best friend back, and he really didn't care if anything ever happened beyond that. Just as long as Eddie didn't hate him.

Although that really wasn't true.

Eddie flinched, the only movement that Richie had felt out of the man since Eddie had squeezed his hand that day that now seemed so very long ago. Richie jumped, his eyes going to Eddie's face.

"Eddie?"

Eddie groaned, a long and painful sound. He turned his head sideways against the pillow, and Richie was glad that he was leaning on his good cheek.

"It's all right," Richie said, reaching out his other hand to lay it over Eddie's hair. "I'm here."

This probably wasn't the best time to be doing and saying such things to Eddie, not if he was already terrified that Eddie would hate him. Richie, however, was only concerned with making sure Eddie woke up as calm as possible. He would deal with the rest later.

Eddie turned his head back the other way, then slightly turned his body away from Richie. Richie swallowed hard, hoping to god that it wasn't Eddie's way of trying to get away from him. Richie kept ahold of the other man's hand regardless.

Eddie groaned again, his face contorting into an expression of pain. The frown lines appeared between his eyebrows and his dimple formed on the cheek that Richie could see. Jesus Christ, Richie had missed those more than he had realized.

This was probably pulling at the stiches in his left cheek, and a moment later, Eddie softly said, "Ow."

"It's all right, man," Richie said, trying his best to remain calm and sound comforting. His own heart was beating about a million miles an hour, but he was too focused on Eddie to notice. "Just breathe."

Eddie stilled and quieted, and Richie thought he had fallen back asleep. Just then, however, Eddie's eyes cracked open the tiniest bit, staring off into space.

"Eds?" Richie asked. He leaned over slightly, trying to get his face into Eddie's field of vision.

"_Fuck_," Eddie moaned, still not looking in Richie's direction. He was staring, unblinking, but Richie knew just from that word alone that Eddie would be okay.

Richie smiled the tiniest bit, calmly trying to wait for Eddie to come to his senses. After a few moments, Eddie blinked and opened and closed his mouth several times. Richie couldn't tell if he was trying to speak or not.

All at once, Eddie looked in his direction. Eddie didn't quite seem to know what he was seeing at first, but then a small smile formed on his lips.

"Richie."

It certainly didn't sound like Eddie hated him, and for that, Richie was grateful. Eddie's voice cracked on his words, and they were full of pain and exhaustion, but his Eddie was still in there somewhere. His Eddie was still alive and Richie wasn't going to let him go ever again.

Eddie squeezed his hand around Richie's, and this exhilarated Richie. It wasn't just a reflex action, but something that Eddie did because he wanted to. Because he was glad Richie was there.

"Is…?" Eddie began, but then he stopped. He opened and closed his mouth several more times. "Water?"

"Oh," Richie said, feeling like a complete and utter moron. Even though they'd had to give Eddie a feeding tube and IV, the poor man hadn't had anything to eat or drink by mouth in a fucking week. Of course he was thirsty.

Richie looked around the room, his eyes falling upon the ugly pink plastic pitcher on the portable tray near the window. Richie immediately relinquished his hold on Eddie's hand, making his way around the bed to pour the water into a Styrofoam cup. There were a few straws in a box nearby, so Richie plunked one of those into the cup as well.

Returning to Eddie's bedside, Richie held the cup out for him, directing the straw into Eddie's mouth. Eddie took several long gulps, closing his eyes at the sensation. When he was done, Richie returned the cup to the tray, then turned to face Eddie again, feeling impossibly uncomfortable and out of place all of a sudden.

"Better?" Richie asked.

Eddie nodded.

A weird and eerie silence fell between them, so Richie cleared his throat in order to break it. The atmosphere in the room suddenly felt strangling, and Richie really wasn't sure why.

"I…I should get a nurse," Richie said, quickly turning towards the door. "They wanted to be alerted as soon as you woke up." Richie headed for the door, but then Eddie called him back.

"Richie," Eddie said quietly, but then he stopped. "Please. Don't go."

_Fuck_. Richie couldn't possibly deny Eddie anything when he asked him like that. His voice was so soft, so pleading, and almost cracking again, but not quite. Eddie could have asked him for the goddamn world, and Richie would have tried his best to give it to him.

Pausing at the doorway to the room, Richie reached out a hand for the doorjamb, feeling like he needed something to help steady himself. But this was insane, because Richie had absolutely no idea what Eddie wanted to tell him. It could be something stupid, like Eddie telling him he fucked Richie's mother. It could be something more important, like telling him he was glad Richie was alive or to thank him for saving his life, but still innocuous in the grand scheme of things. So why did Richie want to jump out of his skin?

"The doctor wanted to check you over," Richie said, still not turning around. He turned his head towards his right shoulder slightly, so that Eddie could hear him better. "Whatever it is, it can wait."

"It's already waited for nearly thirty years," Eddie croaked out, but his voice was firm somehow. "I think that's long enough."

This made Richie's blood run cold. He was suddenly glad that he was holding onto the doorframe, because he felt very unsteady on his feet. "Jesus, Eddie," Richie muttered, squeezing his eyes shut against that pesky burning sensation again.

Richie wanted to run far away, not stopping until he was far away from the hospital. Fuck all of Richie's promises that he wouldn't leave until he knew Eddie was going to be okay. At least Eddie was talking now, so that had to count for a lot, right?

"Richie, please?" Eddie asked again. "Can…you come here for a minute? I hate talking to you from way over there."

Snaking his fingers underneath his glasses, Richie swiped away the tears that had begun creeping over his eyelids. "You can tell me to fuck right off just fine from over there." Richie's voice came out choked and strangled, and he hated that Eddie could have this effect on him all things considered.

"That's not…" Eddie started, but then he stopped, apparently rethinking his words. "If I wanted to tell you to fuck off, I would have done that already." When Richie didn't reply or move from his spot, Eddie pleaded again. "_Please_, Richie. Please just come talk to me for two minutes. I saved you from the Deadlights, got stabbed by a giant fucking demon claw, and almost died in the process. Don't I at least deserve a few minutes of your time?"

Richie expelled a breath before finally turning around to face Eddie. "Of course you do," Richie said breathlessly. He took several slow steps into the room, resigned to the fact that there was no way he'd be able to desert Eddie now. Not after he said those words to Richie.

Richie felt exactly like he had the very first time he walked into Eddie's room, his legs wobbling like they were full of water. Only this time, his fear was for an entirely different reason. So Eddie didn't want to tell Richie to fuck off, but Richie was still sure that this conversation wouldn't lead anywhere good.

Eddie now knew his dirty little secret, the one that only Pennywise had known about him, and that was fucked up. Richie was on the verge of losing his best friend and the only person he ever loved. Eddie would probably tell him that he was disgusted by him and that he could barely stand the sight of him. And maybe throw in a few choice names for good measure.

"Rich," Eddie said, his voice sounding sincere, and Richie wasn't sure why. "Come sit down, okay?" Eddie asked, patting the mattress next to him – to the spot where Richie had spent so much time over the last week.

Huffing out an exasperated breath, Richie said, "Christ, Eds. Really? You're going to make me come and sit next to you just so you can tell me-"

"You don't know what I'm going to tell you," Eddie cut him off, his voice as firm as Richie had ever heard. "Stop acting like a stupid fucking know-it-all, sit down, and shut the fuck up."

Richie wasn't sure where this new forceful Eddie was coming from all of a sudden, but he liked it. Maybe it was Eddie's utter revulsion to him poking through his calm exterior, but Richie did as he was told.

Swallowing audibly, Richie closed the last few feet to Eddie's bed and sat down on the very edge of the mattress. Richie made it a point to not make any sort of contact with the other man at all, because he was pretty sure Eddie wouldn't appreciate it. Unable to meet his (soon to be former) friend's eyes, Richie stared up at the heart monitor, continuing to beep steadily. It was still able to provide Richie with some comfort, even though Richie was sure that he was about to lose one of the few things that mattered to him in this world.

Eddie didn't say anything, but he reached up and grabbed the front of Richie's grey sweatshirt. Richie rolled his eyes, bracing himself for the torrent of names he was about to be called, but they didn't come.

Before Richie could register what was even happening, Eddie had pulled him forward. Richie's boot slipped on the polished linoleum, and he was sure he was about to land on his ass on the floor. He swung out an arm, desperately trying to find something to steady himself, but then he was facedown, his chest hovering just inches above Eddie's. It was everything Richie could do to stop himself from completely falling on top of Eddie and popping the poor man's stitches, giving him another episode of respiratory distress, or god knew what else.

Their faces were only mere inches apart, and Richie stared at Eddie wide-eyed. Before Richie could express his confusion, Eddie had gently pulled him down the remaining distance. A moment later, Eddie gingerly lifted his head off his pillow and pressed his lips against Richie's.

If possible, Richie's eyes widened even more, staring down at Eddie silently. Eddie's eyes were closed, and Richie didn't quite think he had ever seen an expression like that on his best friend's face. It was contentment, and determination, and – was it too much to wish for? – _love_.

But no. Richie had spent so very long trying to convince himself that Eddie could never feel this way about him. If anything, Richie was certain that Eddie would be furious and hate his guts. But this…Richie had never imagined that Eddie would react in this fashion. Not even in his wildest dreams.

Richie was still scared to death about what Eddie's actual feelings were in all of this, but Richie brought a hand up to cup Eddie's cheek. Against his better judgment, Richie deepened the kiss, not wanting Eddie to think that this wasn't welcome. He turned his head, sucking against Eddie's lips hungrily, and this made Eddie moan softly against his mouth.

Richie was suddenly aware of Eddie's heart monitor kicking up a couple of notches, beeping quite a bit faster than it had just a few moments before. Holy shit. Was Richie doing that to him?

When they broke the kiss, they were both panting heavily, their eyes wide. Richie wanted to ask Eddie what in the hell was going on in his mind, but he was at a loss for words.

Eddie let out a soft breath of laughter, which Richie could feel against his lips and nose. As if reading his mind, Eddie whispered, "I've wanted to do that ever since the first time I squeezed into that too-small hammock with you."

Richie blinked, still not quite believing what he was hearing. This was absurd, because nothing in Richie's life was ever this easy. Richie did not just confess his feelings to a man that he thought couldn't hear him, only for Eddie to wake up and kiss him fervently. Things like this just didn't happen. Not in real life and not to Richie Tozier.

"Believe me, Richie," Eddie said, sounding completely out of breath like he had just run a mile. "I was never rubbing up against you in the hammock just to be a pain in the ass."

"Even though that's exactly what you were."

"I…I don't know what I was doing," Eddie said, diverting his eyes.

A faint blush creeped up in Eddie cheeks just then. It was the most color Eddie had had in his face all week, and it was nice to see. Again, it occurred to Richie that he was the one who was eliciting these responses from Eddie, and Richie's own heart started to beat a bit erratically in his chest.

"I guess it was my stupid way of flirting," Eddie admitted, glancing back to Richie hopefully. "And then when you never seemed to notice-"

"Oh, I noticed," Richie cut him off gently, licking his lips. "I did. I just didn't know what to do with it. Like I said when you were sleeping, I thought you were just being your regular annoying self. I never imagined-" Richie broke off, shaking his head in disbelief. "Is this real life?" he simply asked, trying his best to sort through what was even happening.

"I fucking hope so," Eddie said, a small smile forming on his lips. "I finally had the courage to do something that I've wanted for nearly three decades. I don't think I could stand it if it wasn't real."

Richie stared down at him, trying to figure out the emotions on Eddie's face. "You've honestly wanted to kiss me for that long?" Richie asked, then he laughed, a sound of disbelief and shock. "We both wanted the same damn thing all this time?"

"So it's okay that I kissed you?" Eddie asked, still sounding uncertain.

"God, _yeah_," Richie breathed. "You know, I'm not in the habit of kissing just anyone back like that. Unless I'm about to fuck your mother."

"Shut the fuck up."

"You really are brave," Richie said warmly. "I certainly didn't have the courage to do that, much less tell you. Hell, I was only talking to you, because I was pretty sure you couldn't hear me."

"It didn't seem so scary once you said those things," Eddie admitted. "Of course, there was a tiny part of me that was wondering if I had dreamed the entire thing, because it all seemed too good to be true. But I thought, 'fuck it.' If I did imagine the whole thing, there was never going to be a better time to claim that I was just out my mind with pain and drugs."

"I'm glad you did," Richie said, bringing up a hand to cup Eddie's cheek. "If you didn't, we would have been dancing around this subject forever, never knowing how the other felt."

Silence fell between them for a moment before Eddie broke it. He glanced at their hands clasped together, then back up into Richie's eyes. "And if you are wondering how I feel," Eddie said, "I love you."

Richie's eyes slid shut and he felt his bottom lip quivering the tiniest bit. At first, he tried to push the feeling down, but then it occurred to him that it was just that that had almost caused him to lose Eddie entirely. If Eddie hadn't had the courage to just come right out and kiss him, this probably never would have happened. Richie and Eddie would eventually go back to their lives in LA and New York respectively and continue on like they had for the last twenty-seven years.

So no. Richie wasn't going to push this feeling down. The fact that Eddie had told him those three little words that he'd wanted to hear for nearly three decades was making him emotional. He'd wished for this moment for as long as he could remember and it was actually happening.

"God," Richie whispered, leaning down to close the distance between he and Eddie. Richie stopped short, taking a moment to glance down at the other man, remembering the way Eddie's big brown eyes watched him hopefully. "I love you," Richie said, kissing Eddie again.

This kiss was entirely different than the first. While that one had been tentative, and surprising, and nervous, this one was completely comfortable, each of them safe in the knowledge that they both wanted it as much as the other. It was like going home in a way that Richie had never felt with the town of Derry itself.

But then other horrible thoughts were floating back into Richie's mind. Thoughts that included Eddie's wife and the fact that it wasn't going to be this simple. He and Eddie couldn't just be together, because like it or not, Eddie was already committed to someone else. This forced Richie to break the kiss.

"But _Jesus_, Eddie," Richie said, unable to control himself. "You're _married_."

Eddie rolled his eyes, smacking his palm against the front of Richie's chest. Eddie glanced to the windows that Richie had spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at himself. "Thanks for ruining the moment, dumbass," Eddie muttered. "And thanks for reminding me. I was content with basking in the sudden realization that we've been in love with each other since forever."

"Sorry," Richie mumbled, making a face at his own fucking lack of tact. "It's something we're going to have to deal with at some point though. It isn't as simple as the two of us wanting to be together. If that's even what you want," Richie added hastily, feeling those old fears come creeping back in. They didn't stay away nearly long enough.

"Oh, Richie," Eddie sighed, his eyes going back up to the other man's. "I've wanted nothing but since we were kids and didn't think this sort of thing was even appropriate."

"Me too," Richie said around a somber smile. And then he had to know, so he asked, "Do you love her?"

Eddie stared down at Richie's fingers threaded through his, at the one hold they still hadn't relinquished on each other. Eddie took a moment to rub his thumb over Richie's fingers before he answered.

"It was never-" Eddie began, but then he stopped himself, seemingly confused by his own words. "I don't fucking know what it was, but it was never about that. I met her after my mother died, and I was feeling so fucking lost. It was so _easy_ to let Myra take over that role in my life. It's a horrible thing to say, because I didn't _miss_ my mother, but…I still felt like I needed her presence there, you know? And Myra filled that, almost without me wanting her to. She firmly established herself in my life, and before I knew it, we were married and…hell. She became a fucking habit just like my mother. It's not something you love, but…it's complicated." Eddie sighed, shaking his head miserably. "I really fucked up, didn't I?" Eddie brought a hand to his face, rubbing it over his eyes and taking extra caution to avoid the left side of his face entirely.

"No," Richie said reassuringly, shaking his head. He brought a hand up to Eddie's face again, rubbing his fingers across Eddie temple in an effort to comfort him. "Your mother was a big part of your life, and I know better than anyone the complicated relationship you can have with a parent. I can see why Myra was able to fill that void for you and why you might have wanted her to. It was…easy."

The right side of Eddie's lips curled up into a smile, like he was doing his very best to avoid moving the skin around the stab wound in his left cheek. "The easiest thing I've ever done by far was fall in love with you," Eddie said breathlessly.

"Jesus Christ," Richie said in disbelief. He leaned forward, placing his forehead against Eddie's and added, "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say shit like that."

"Me too," Eddie said, his smile never leaving his lips. "But Richie, I can't possibly ask you to wait around – to put your entire love life on hold – while I sort things out with my wife. It isn't fair to you." He shook his head, breaking the contact he had with Richie's.

Richie squeezed Eddie's hand tightly, bringing it up to his chest, holding it close to his heart. "You listen to me," Richie said firmly. "I've waited for this for twenty-seven long years. If you need me to wait some more…I'm not going anywhere. Not if this is something we both want."

Eddie sighed, a sound somewhere between pure contentment and a little bit exhaustion. "I _do_ want this," Eddie replied. "God, for as long as I can remember, I've wanted this. I just didn't think it was an option and so…I settled. Very poorly."

"I want this too," Richie told him. "More than I've ever wanted anything in my life, and I for one think it's worth waiting for. _You're_ worth waiting for. For as long as you need."

Eddie's eyes were large and round, and if Richie wasn't mistaken, he saw a faint quiver in Eddie's bottom lip as well. Before Richie could say anything more, Eddie brought his arms up, curling them around Richie's neck. He pulled Richie down, hugging him ridiculously tightly for a man who had been at death's door just a week ago.

Unable to quite get his arms around Eddie (and not wanting to risk injuring the man further while he was at it), Richie placed his hands on Eddie's shoulders. He gripped them tightly, running his thumbs over the skin. Next, Richie lowered his head even more, pressing his lips to the crook between Eddie's neck and shoulder.

These were all things Richie had wanted to do for ages, but didn't think they'd ever be welcome. The fact that he was finally able to hold Eddie in his arms and not have to pretend that they were just friends was exhilarating to him. It was almost making his head spin. Richie knew, of course, that they still had so much to sort out before they'd be free to be together. But for now, it was just them, and that was enough.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5: No More Secrets

**Brave  
**Chapter 5 – No More Secrets

When the doctors became aware that Eddie had woken up, they promptly began checking Eddie over from head to toe. As Richie made his way out into the waiting room to give them some space, he could hear Eddie complaining about all the ways they were poking and prodding him. Then Richie could hear Eddie asking if they had washed their hands and if their equipment was sterile.

This made Richie smile like an absolute lunatic, and there was a certain spring to his step now that hadn't been there before. Hearing Eddie give the medical staff the third degree was like music to Richie's ears, and something he had been fairly certain he'd never hear again. Not to mention, Richie had been kissed by Eddie fucking Kaspbrak, and as sappy as it sounded, Richie knew his life would never be the same again.

With the exception of Mike, the rest of the Losers had been dividing their time between the hospital and the townhouse. They had more or less put their lives on hold until they learned something more concrete about Eddie's condition. At least they could afford to do so, except maybe for Bill, who was fending off calls from the movie set daily. In the end, Bill said that Eddie was his priority right now, so he didn't give a rat's ass what they did without him. Bill would probably have to answer for it big time once he did return home, but he'd deal with that when the time came.

Richie was at least glad to know that he wasn't the only one who was so invested in Eddie's condition. Richie was also thankful to have the support of the other Losers, because he was positive he would have gone crazy at least twice over the last week without them. Not to mention, it was probably also a good idea for Eddie to have the support of as many people as possible.

When he emerged into the waiting this time, his friends immediately knew something was different; one look at Richie told them that much.

"He's awake," Richie said, without needing to be asked. "They're checking him over now, but we talked for a while and…he seemed coherent and lucid, which was a lot more than I was expecting. He's still in pain obviously, but for the most part, he seems okay." Richie laughed before he added, "He's giving the doctors hell right now, wanting to know if his care is up to standards." Richie stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I had no idea how much I missed his neurotic complaining."

"Oh, Richie," Beverly said in relief, stepping forward and hugging Richie tightly. "That's wonderful. I know you've been lost without him." She pulled away then, looking up at him and running a hand up and down his arm.

For a very brief moment, under Beverly's gaze, Richie had a crazy urge to tell them about the kiss that he and Eddie had shared. It was the greatest damn thing that had happened to Richie in a long time, and he wanted to shout it from the rooftops. As it was, however, Richie decided against it. He could feel the eyes of the other Losers on him, and that was enough to make Richie question if he wanted to come clean. Not to mention, Richie wasn't even sure how Eddie would feel about all of this, or if he'd even want to announce it before he got things taken care of with Myra. They had a lot to talk about before they told the world they were going to be together.

Besides, Richie still had to take his career into account. He wasn't a huge star by any stretch of the imagination, but he could imagine his face ending up on the National Inquirer before the month was up if he held conversations about his sexuality in a hospital waiting room of all places.

Richie still felt like he was monopolizing Eddie's time, but the other Losers didn't seem to mind. As soon as the doctors were done running tests, Richie asked if he could talk to Eddie some more. No one protested, and as much as Richie knew he should feel selfish, he didn't.

When Richie returned to Eddie's room, he found Eddie staring desolately towards the windows to his left. Richie's stomach immediately clenched uncomfortably, and if Richie had been on any sort of regular eating schedule, his stomach would have just lost its contents.

The doctors had said that Eddie was healing nicely and as long as nothing went wrong, he should have a smooth if lengthy recovery. Richie thought that Eddie would be over the moon about that, but as it was, Eddie looked completely miserable. But Richie knew. He knew what had happened in Eddie's room just mere hours before was too good to be true, and now Eddie was regretting it. He was regretting kissing Richie and admitting his feelings. He was regretting doing these things behind his wife's back, as awful as she was. He was regretting possibly ruining their friendship by exploring their feelings for each other. He was regretting everything.

"Eddie?" Richie asked quietly, his stomach doing flipflops.

Eddie didn't seem to notice him, but just then, Richie saw a tear glistening on Eddie's cheek. Even if Eddie was upset over what had happened between them, Richie couldn't bear to see the poor man cry over it, so he immediately gave him an easy out.

"Hey," Richie whispered, coming farther into the room. "You know I love you, but if you'd rather forget what happened between us and go back to being friends…I won't hold it against you."

Richie tried his best to smile, even though his words hurt his heart. He almost couldn't bear the thought of losing Eddie like this now that he'd gotten a taste of what it was like, but Richie never wanted Eddie to regret him. Never wanted to try and force Eddie to do something he didn't want, like so many others before him.

Eddie's head snapped towards him, those adorable creases appearing between his eyebrows. "Richie…god, no." He reached up, wiping away the trail of tears on his cheek. "That's not it. That's not it at all. I'm not a stupid teenager that doesn't know what the fuck he wants. I've wanted you for nearly thirty years and I still do. That hasn't changed. If you'll have me." His voice quivered slightly on his last words.

Richie's stomach finally settled and he was able to breathe again. He closed the distance to Eddie's bed, taking up his usual spot on the edge of the mattress. They were probably going to have to throw the mattress away by the end of Eddie's stay due to the hole Richie was going to put through it. Richie placed his hands on Eddie's cheeks (being careful not to press to hard on the side with the bandage) and said, "Until the end of time."

Letting out a breath, Eddie closed his eyes, relaxing into Richie's touch.

"But then what has you so upset?" Richie asked, his own eyebrows knitting in worry. "The doctor said there's no cause for concern, and I thought you'd be thrilled about that. You're going to fucking make it, man."

Opening his eyes, Eddie smiled half-heartedly. "And that's great news," Eddie said. "I mean, Jesus – I could have developed all sorts of staph infections, and contracted listeria, and goddamned _tetanus_, and _typhus_, and_ diphtheria_." He placed one hand on his chest, but then used his other one to bisect the air several times. "I could have been teeming with bacteria and parasites, and they would have had to put me into fucking quarantine for god knows how long, and I probably would have become septic-"

Eddie was rambling again, so Richie did what he now knew would shut him up – he placed his lips over Eddie's and kissed him hard. Thirty fucking years and he now knew how to silence Eddie Kaspbrak.

When Richie pulled away, he said, "You're fucking adorable when you go all neurotic on me, but you were going to tell me what has you so upset and _not_ list the possible diseases you could have contracted."

Eddie tried to smile, but the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "But that's just it," Eddie mumbled, diverting his eyes back towards the windows. "I actually don't know how you ever found me adorable in the first place, but you definitely won't now."

"I don't…" Richie began, but his words got caught somewhere in his throat. Frowning deeply, he placed a soft hand on Eddie's chin, directing the other man's gaze back towards him. "What are you talking about? You've been adorable to me ever since you wore those ridiculously short shorts that did unspeakable things to me, dorky tube socks, and godawful fanny pack. And believe me, you're leaps and bounds hotter than that now. If that didn't turn me off, I don't think anything will."

There was that half-hearted smile on Eddie's face again. "And I appreciate that, but…" Eddie stopped, then moved his hand and laid it across the bandages that were still wrapped around his middle. Still avoiding Richie's eyes, Eddie said, "It's awful. The doctor changed my bandages while he was in here and-" Eddie sucked in a breath at the thought, not saying anything more.

"You fucking stop right there," Richie said firmly. He reached out, placing his hand over the bandages around Eddie's middle, their fingers touching ever so slightly. "You got this because you saved me from the Deadlights. I will _never_ see it as anything other than a mark of bravery, and courage, and the fact that you were willing to risk your own life to save mine. Everything about you has always been beautiful to me, and that's certainly not going to change now. Definitely not because that fucking clown tried to take you away from me."

"But, Rich," Eddie said, his voice shaking, "you didn't see it. It's big, and ragged, and gruesome-"

Richie pressed a finger over Eddie's lips, stopping him. "Don't," Richie said. "If you're afraid about what I'll think if I see it…don't be. I promise you that it won't make me think any differently of you. Just like this one." Richie moved his hand, laying it gently over Eddie's bandaged cheek. "I told you when we were down in the sewers how goddamned brave you were to pull a knife out of your own face and stab Bowers with it. And how goddamned brave you were to go after that clown with a fence post of all things."

Eddie laughed softly, but then grimaced slightly in pain. "Bev told me it would kill monsters if I believed it would. For all the good that did."

"My point still stands," Richie insisted. He trailed his hand down from Eddie's cheek, letting it come to rest on top of the bandages around Eddie's abdomen once again. "Jesus, you were so brave and _you saved my life_! How could I think any less of you because of the injuries you sustained from that? Eddie, believe me. _Nothing_ about you will ever be gruesome to me – least of all this." Richie gently rubbed his thumb over the bandages.

Eddie frowned deeply, but at the same time, the corners of his lips began curling upwards. There was a faint glisten of tears in Eddie's eyes before he closed them and turned away. Richie could see him swallowing and if he wasn't mistaken, there was a faint blush creeping up into Eddie's cheeks.

It was Richie's turn to frown. "What?" he asked.

When Eddie opened his eyes again, he turned back to Richie and said, "If I was having this conversation with Myra, she'd end up blaming me for the entire thing and tell me it was my own damn fault that I ended up skewered by a fucking demon."

Richie really didn't want to speak badly about Eddie's wife. After all, he didn't even know her, but the more he heard about her, the more he disliked her. "She doesn't deserve you, man," Richie said, unable to control himself. "Not if she'd throw all of this back in your face like that."

"Oh my god, Myra," Eddie suddenly cried, placing a hand over his eyes and then running his fingers through his hair.

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Richie found himself smirking. Eddie's hair was an absolute mess, sticking out at all angles and certainly greasier than Eddie would ever let it get. Richie was pretty positive they hadn't shown him a mirror, because if they had, he would have been having a fit over the state of his hair instead of his scars.

"Has anyone called her?" Eddie asked when he looked at Richie again.

"Er…um," Richie stammered, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "About that-"

"You didn't, did you?!"

"Yeah, well, see, we were going to," Richie explained in a rush, "but…well, your phone was locked and we didn't know the pin to get her number."

"Rich," Eddie said, giving Richie a sharp stare. "In today's day and age, it doesn't take that much effort to find someone's _phone number_."

Richie grimaced. "Well, no one really wanted to do it," he finally admitted, "and we didn't know what to say to her anyway. If she knew what happened, she would have been on the next plane here, and given everything you've already told us about her…we weren't entirely sure that that would have been best for you." Richie paused before he added, "And after what you've just told me about how she would have reacted, it sounds like we were right." It was his turn to give Eddie a pointed look. "You need rest and support, not that woman screaming at you about how all of this is _your_ fault. That's the _last_ thing you need right now."

Eddie heaved a sigh and said, "I know, but she's still my wife, and she deserves to know that I'm in the hospital."

"What are you going to tell her?" Richie asked, his voice sounding slightly panicked. "I mean, I guess it makes sense to stick with the same lie that we gave the doctors, but-"

"I can't possibly tell her I was in an _abandoned house_," Eddie cried, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "Jesus Christ, she'd _kill me_. She has a fit if I drive when it's fucking _raining_." Eddie let out a laugh that was somewhere between humor and hysteria.

"Which one of you is the risk analyst?"

"Exactly."

"You see our dilemma."

"Yeah, okay, I know," Eddie mumbled. When he dropped his hand from his face, he stared long and hard at Richie. "I still have tell her something, man. I can't possibly wait till I'm released – which the doctor said will likely be weeks – and show up on her doorstep looking like something the cat dragged in."

"To be fair," Richie pointed out, "you don't have to disclose _all_ your wounds to her." Richie gestured again to the bandages around Eddie's abdomen. "She doesn't even need to know about this. All you'd have to do is explain about where Bowers stabbed you."

"Yeah, 'don't worry, Myra, a madman with a knife stabbed me. It's nothing,'" Eddie said around a sigh.

"We told the doctors you fell," Richie offered sheepishly. "Or rather, Bill did. Didn't say what you fell on though."

"I don't know what's worse," Eddie said in thought, frowning up at the ceiling. "Madman with a knife or just my clumsy ass. She'd probably want to wrap me in bubble wrap for the rest of my life if I went with the latter."

"I got news for you, man. Bubble wrap wouldn't do jack shit against a knife blade."

"You know," Eddie mused, "she did tell me that if I came back to Derry at all, to not bother coming home again. Maybe I should take her up on that. She might even set all my belongings out on the lawn so I can gather them up quickly and get the hell out."

As much as Richie wanted to believe the contrary, he said, "You know it's not going to be that easy. She was blowing up your phone until we turned the damn thing off. And that was only on the first day you were here."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I don't even want to turn it back on then. God knows how many missed calls, and voicemails, and texts I have from her. Just…can we talk about something else? The thought of my phone alone is giving me anxiety." He suddenly closed his eyes and loudly gasped for hair, an all-too-familiar sound.

"Yeah," Richie said. He placed a hand on Eddie's upper chest, near his shoulder, rubbing his fingers over the skin gently. "They have you on oxygen, because you were in respiratory distress when you came in. You're fine. _Breathe_. We'll worry about Attila the Hun later."

Eddie let out a laugh as he concentrated on slowing his breathing. When he let out one last measured breath, he turned to Richie and asked, "Did you tell the Losers about us?"

"What?" Richie asked, and now it was his turn to try and keep from having a panic attack. "_No_, didn't _tell_ them. I…I don't even know if you'd want me to until you sorted things out with Myra, and god, you're the only person that even knows I'm gay now, and…" Richie's voice suddenly died in his throat, his eyes going wide at his words.

Eddie lifted his head from his pillow slightly. "What?"

Richie attempted to swallow away the lump that had settled into his throat. It still didn't seem to move, but when he looked at Eddie again, he gasped out, "I never said that before. I alluded to it while you were asleep, but…I never came right out and said it." Richie paused, closing his eyes against the sudden rapid beating his heart. Even though he now knew that Eddie didn't hate him – very far from it, in fact – it was still a sentence that Richie had difficulty with. He swallowed again, finally getting past that lump before he said, "I'm gay."

Eddie smiled, finding Richie's hand and gripping it firmly in his. "I'm glad I'm the one you told."

Squeezing Eddie's hand back, Richie said, "Me too. But…isn't that enough for now? I don't…I don't think I'm exactly ready for anyone else to know just yet."

"Rich," Eddie said quickly, "we don't have to tell anyone _anything_. I just kind of assumed you'd want to after so long." He shrugged ever so slightly, careful not to tug at his stitches.

"I _do_," Richie murmured. "God, I do. I'd love to tell everybody, but...I'm _scared_. It's why I never said anything to you before – because I was afraid that everyone, including you, would hate me." Richie paused, not sure if he should voice his next thoughts, but he did anyway. "I thought you'd be just as worried." He bit at his lower lip, not intending for his last words to sound as bitter as they perhaps did.

"Maybe to tell the rest of the world, sure," Eddie agreed, "but…they're our friends." He lifted his hand from the mattress, gesturing towards the door. "They're not going to care. If anything, they'll probably be happy for us. In fact, I'm willing to bet that at least a couple of them might have seen this coming. In retrospect, I was really kind of obvious in the hammock and shit." Eddie grimaced at the thought.

Richie laughed quietly before he said, "Maybe."

His voice was wistful, thinking back to those too-hot summers inside the clubhouse, Eddie's sticky skin pressing up against his and his sweaty socks snaking their way underneath Richie's glasses. Richie thought he could almost smell those socks again if he tried hard enough, the memory now so very clear and crisp to him. God, how had he ever forgotten about that? How had he ever let that memory become so buried underneath the intervening decades?

"You know, Rich," Eddie said quietly, pulling Richie from his reverie, "even if I didn't feel the same way, I'm actually kind of surprised that you thought I'd hate you so much for…simply loving me." He stared unblinking into Richie's eyes. "You're my best friend. I could never hate you for that."

Silence fell over the room, and it was just hanging on that edge of becoming uncomfortable. Attempting to stem it before it grew any worse, Richie ran a hand through his hair and said, "I didn't know you – didn't know the you _now_. I was just certain that with the way you were raised…there was only _one_ way you _could_ feel about it. I mean, your mother clearly gave you the AIDS talk. Didn't she also talk to you about the _gays_?"

"Oh, yeah," Eddie said quietly. "She did. And…a part of me grew up thinking she was right." Eddie paused, the right corner of his lips curling up into a smile. His eyes seemed slightly unfocused, like he was caught up in a long-lost memory. "But the funny thing was, it was her choices that made me realize she was wrong at all."

Richie frowned and shook his head in confusion. "When was that?"

"When she made me go to college," Eddie said around a quiet laugh. "Little did she know, the very first friend I made there was a gay guy. Aaron."

"Friend?" Richie asked, unable to stop himself. He flinched when he realized the word had come out sounding slightly jealous.

"Yes, Richie," Eddie said, rolling his eyes. "_Friend_. And I haven't spoken to him in nearly twenty years, so you can calm the fuck down."

"It was longer since we had spoken," Richie pointed out, "and look where we are." He gestured between them.

"He was a _friend_, Richie," Eddie insisted, sounding only slightly annoyed, "nothing more. Believe me, I was still too hung up on you to even _think_ about looking at anyone else."

Richie couldn't keep a grin from overtaking his face.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Eddie bit out, even though Richie hadn't said anything. "Anyway, I was still coming to terms with the fact that I was most likely bisexual, and yes, I was as scared and confused as you are now." Pausing, Eddie laughed, then bit at his bottom lip in an attempt to stop it. "And then here comes Aaron, out and proud as fuck. He didn't care who knew or what anybody thought about him." Eddie frowned deeply in thought before he went on. "We talked a lot. Not so much about our sexuality, but just…about life in general. It wasn't long before I realized that he was just like everybody else, and there was nothing wrong with the fact that he just happened to have a boyfriend. I came to the conclusion that people should love who they love, and everyone else can just mind their own damn business."

Richie was smiling, a slightly sad and somber smile, again being reminded of just how brave Eddie was. "Did you ever tell your mother you felt that way?"

Eddie snorted. "Fuck no. She either would have pulled me out of that school or killed me. Maybe both. I'm not sure. She was really the only one I ever hid it from. I mean, I don't go around announcing it, but if someone asks, I don't lie."

"So wait," Richie said sharply, something occurring to him. "When we were in the Jade of the Orient and you said, 'Let's take our shirts off and kiss'-"

"I was fucking hoping you'd ask me," Eddie said. "Yeah."

"Jesus Christ," Richie huffed, pressing a hand against the side of his face, "I thought you were drunk."

"Well, yeah, I was," Eddie admitted. "I had to be to say something like that in the first place, but I was still using it to try and test the waters. I wanted to see how you'd react." Eddie scrunched up his face in that ridiculously cute way of his. "And if you or anyone else made a big deal out of it, I could have just laughed it off and blamed it on the alcohol. As it was, nobody seemed to notice, so I doubted any of you cared."

"So does Myra know then?"

"Again," Eddie replied, "fuck no. She'd react the same way as my mother. And she's kind of one of those people who thinks that bisexuals are just greedy and want more than one relationship at a time." He rolled his eyes. "She'd probably think I was using it as an excuse to try and cheat on her. It's stupid."

"Well, you kind of are cheating on her, dude," Richie said, grimacing. As much as he still hated Myra, he wasn't proud of the fact that he was making moves on her husband.

"Fuck you," Eddie cried indignantly. "It's only because I realized my childhood best friend reciprocated my feelings of nearly thirty years. I hope you know I wouldn't kiss any Tom, Dick, or Harry who walked into my hospital room and said they were in love with me."

It was Richie's turn to snort. "I hope the fuck not."

"But that's why I want to sort things out with her before I move forward with you," Eddie explained. "It really isn't fair to either one of you right now. But okay, there's two people who I wasn't honest with about my sexuality – Myra and my mother. But I never really kept it a secret from anyone else. Everyone at work knows I'm bisexual and it's not a big deal," Eddie continued, shaking his head. "I was working there before I met Myra, and I had coworkers trying to play matchmaker a time or two and asking me what I'm into. It's really strange actually. You have this mindset that people are going to judge you for it, and I know people do, but my coworkers give zero fucks if you're gay, or bi, or fucking your mom every night."

"That's because you work in the most boring place on the face of the earth."

"But it's true, you know," Eddie said firmly, holding Richie's gaze. "There's nothing wrong with it. There's nothing wrong with _you_. It isn't a dirty little secret. Or at least it shouldn't be."

Eddie's hand was still firmly gripped around his, so Richie took a moment to look down at them, at their joined hands. "That's hard for me," Richie admitted, glancing back up at Eddie. "I never had that epiphany. I never had that gay friend that made me realize those things are _normal_. My mother gave me the gay talk too, and that was all I ever knew. That and Bowers and Pennywise telling me I'm a fucking freak."

One of Eddie eyebrows went up and he stared at Richie questioningly. "Well, Bowers and Pennywise are two of the most unreliable sources on the face of the earth, so let's disqualify them from the conversation altogether."

"Yeah, I know," Richie said around a sigh. "But you know better than anyone just how hard it can be to not believe the bullshit lies your mother fed you."

"I do," Eddie agreed, "and the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. I know it's scary to think about coming out. Believe me, I almost had a panic attack at the office when I admitted to my coworker that I'm bi. A part of me is still afraid of what other people will think, but I have people in my life that don't care, and that's enough. But if you don't want to tell anyone yet, I'm okay with that. I just want to be with you, and we'll think about telling people when you feel ready."

Richie let out a heavy breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. For a very precarious moment, Richie was even terrified that Eddie would be angry at him for wanting to keep their relationship a secret. Richie was actually so tied up in knots, he thought he might even be afraid of his shadow at this point. In fact, he might even be worse off than Eddie when it came right down to it.

Richie laughed, mostly to try and release tension than for the fact that anything was funny. Richie brought Eddie's hand up to his cheek, pressing the backs of Eddie's fingers to his skin. "Thank you," Richie whispered. "I never – _god_."

A sob escaped from Richie, seemingly out of nowhere, and then he felt tears springing up in his eyes again. He quickly rubbed a hand underneath his glasses, attempting to wipe them away for all the good it did; more were just forming in their place. A part of him wondered if a time would come when he wouldn't be this emotional anymore.

"Hey," Eddie said. He pulled Richie's hand towards his mouth now, pressing a kiss the back of Richie's hand. "We're going to sort this out, okay? Things with Myra and with you coming out if and when you feel ready – don't worry about it. We'll just take it one thing at a time."

"I know," Richie said around a shuddering breath. "Seriously, how are you so calm about all of this?"

"This is the only thing I'm calm about, believe me," Eddie said around a smile. "That comes from years of being around people who don't bat an eye when you tell them you're bisexual. It wasn't always like that."

"And…" Richie tried, but he was cut off by a hiccup. He pulled his glasses off, rubbing them against the leg of his jeans to try and remove some of the moisture. "Are you getting the same feeling I am?" When Eddie looked at him questioningly, Richie clarified, "This has been so damn _easy_, you know? You feel the same way I do and you're being _so_ fucking _understanding_ about _everything – _about my insecurities and fears about coming out-"

"Because you've never been anything but understanding with me," Eddie cut him off gently. "When we were down in the sewer, and I was certain I was going to get you all killed, you didn't yell. You didn't treat me like a liability. You talked me down. You know exactly what I need when I get like that, and that's something not a lot of people are willing to understand. And you _get_ that. You get _me_. Even now, when I have so much to sort out with Myra, you're willing to give me that time, and…you're not throwing a fit the way I know she's going to. You're willing to wait for me and-" Eddie suddenly laughed. "I never even imagined I'd have two people vying for my attention, but here we are. So yeah, in a way, this does feel too easy and too good to be true, but maybe it's because It's dead."

"Maybe," Richie agreed, sniffling slightly. "It's just…overwhelming. Here I was thinking you'd hate me at the very least for being gay. I really, _really_ thought I was going to lose my best friend for being honest about my feelings."

Eddie shook his head firmly, pressing Richie's hand into his cheek. "Never," Eddie told him solemnly. "I hope you know now that there's nothing you can't tell me. If we're really going to pursue a relationship, we're going to have to be honest with each other. I want you to be able to come to me no matter what you're feeling so we can sort it out together, okay? No more secrets."

Richie nodded, leaning down and placing his forehead against Eddie's. "No more secrets."

Unbeknownst to Richie, it might not be a promise that would be so easy for him to uphold.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: Lots of talk here about sexuality and coming out. Please do let me know if I've written anything offensive, because that's never my intention.__ This story is taking on a life of its own, which is par for the course where I'm concerned, I'm afraid. This is going to follow Richie and Eddie through the next year of their lives, exploring some of their ups and downs as a couple, so there's lots more to come! _


	6. Chapter 6: Callback

**Brave  
**Chapter 6 – Callback

_It was the strangest thing. Eddie didn't know what had caused the videos to start springing up in his recommended section on YouTube in the first place. Moreover, he didn't even know what had possessed him to click on one in the first place. He had never much been one for comedy routines, and he couldn't remember ever watching something similar on YouTube before. He usually ended up watching much more informative things, such as the best ways to disinfect various surfaces in one's home, or what all those symptoms he had really meant._

_But here he was, nearly a year later, actively searching to see if any new content from a certain comedian had been uploaded recently. At first, Eddie had just been watching the comedy routines themselves, but now, he had found himself viewing various interviews with the man as well._

_It was absolutely absurd. He was a grown forty-year-old man, and he was acting like some silly teenager – looking up videos and feeling his pulse speed up when thumbnails of Richie Tozier's ridiculous face filled up his screen._

_Just as Eddie scrolled to a video he hadn't watched before – one of the newer routines apparently – Myra stirred beside him in bed. Eddie rolled his eyes, thinking the woman had a sixth sense about this sort of thing. He had even taken the time to put his earbuds in so that the noise wouldn't awaken her._

_"__Are you watching that crass comedian again?" Myra demanded in a sleep-heavy voice._

_"__Yes, dear," Eddie replied automatically, reaching up to pull one earbud out. "You know I do most every night." He stared at her, giving her a fake smile. "And look, there's a new routine that's been uploaded that I'd really like to watch before bed. You know it helps calm my anxiety," he bit out between gritted teeth._

_More and more, Eddie found that watching Richie's videos before bed helped him relax enough to fall asleep. Many times, he'd barely even make it through the entire video before he'd end up dozing off. Myra would find him in the morning, with his laptop still somewhat balanced on his legs and Eddie slumped over in various uncomfortable positions against the headboard._

_She'd have a fit, of course, because Eddie was going to ruin his back by the time he was fifty if he kept doing that, but he could never bring himself to care. Oftentimes, Eddie's anxiety would be so bad, he'd toss and turn for hours before he fell asleep. And then out of nowhere, there were these stupid videos from a stupid comedian he'd never known about that somehow seemed to calm him like nothing else ever could. Not even on the rare occasions when Myra was in one of her generous moods and tried to massage away the stiffness in Eddie's shoulders before he laid down._

_Myra, on the other hand, never had a problem falling asleep, so she was never aware of just how many hours Eddie laid awake at night. He'd stare at the ceiling, worrying about stupid shit like if he had scrubbed the kitchen counter well enough after they'd had raw meat on it. Or if Myra would wake up during the course of the night and find something to yell at him for, which would inevitably erupt into a full-blown argument._

_This was stupid, Eddie decided. He had found something that actually helped calm his anxiety – something that wasn't in a bottle and something that wasn't hurting anyone else. Eddie couldn't understand why Myra couldn't just let him watch the damn videos and be happy that he had found something that helped him. Marriage should be about compromise and helping one another; not about walking on eggshells in case the other one woke up and found you watching videos she didn't like._

_Perish the thought._

_"__Then go calm your anxiety in the living room," Myra muttered, making a show of fluffing her mound of pillows and smoothing the blankets out around her. "You know I don't like that inappropriate sort of thing in my sleep space. The screen is too bright anyway. That messes with your circadian rhythm. No wonder you can't sleep at night."_

_"__It's when I _don't_ watch the videos that I can't sleep," Eddie muttered, gathering up his laptop in one arm and throwing the blankets aside with the other. "I turned the damn brightness down as low as I could without making the whole thing black. I try, okay? But it's never enough for you, is it?" Eddie asked, glancing back at her before he stood up._

_"__You shouldn't be using your laptop in bed anyway!" she cried after him. "It's horrible for your posture, staring down at that screen! You'd be much better off if you used it at a desk so you could sit up straighter!"_

_"__So I'll go use it on the couch instead," Eddie replied, wrenching the door open. "That'll be _much_ better for my posture."_

_"__Don't stay out on the couch all night though, Eddie-kins!" Myra yelled before he closed the door. "That's even worse for your back!"_

_Eddie pulled the door shut, sufficiently muffling any last words she was screaming at him. By the time he made his way out to the couch, he was fucking shaking again, because count on that woman to get him all worked up before bed._

_He set his laptop down on the coffee table, then set his earbuds on top of that, feeling his breath coming in wheezing gasps in his chest. "Christ," Eddie muttered, reaching across the table for one of the many inhalers he kept around the house. After using it several times, he took a moment to breathe deeply in through his nose and then out through his mouth. In, out, in, out. Wash, rinse, repeat, until Eddie felt the quivering in his extremities subsiding._

_"__Don't worry, Myra, I'm fine!" Eddie snapped back towards the direction of their bedroom._

_Eddie grabbed up the quilt that they kept on the armchair, unfolding it and laying it across the couch. When Eddie was stretched out underneath it, he reached for his laptop, laying it across his legs and putting his earbuds in again._

_Eddie clicked on the thumbnail for Richie's new video that was still displayed on his screen. After the ads played through and the applause and cheers gave way to Richie's stupid voice, Eddie felt himself relaxing almost immediately. His breath almost coming easier than even after he had just used his inhaler._

_Whenever Eddie watched Richie's videos, however, there was always something strange nagging at the back of his mind. It was a weird sense of déjà vu a lot, even though Eddie had never seen this video before, and it happened _every_ time he watched one. Eddie supposed that was part of what he liked about them; they were familiar in a way that almost made him feel at home._

_And then there was something else – something always slightly off in Richie's eyes or in his voice. It wasn't always there, but when it was, Eddie noticed it like one would notice an ambulance blazing down the road. It was obvious and unmistakable, although Eddie had a hard time putting his finger on exactly what it was. It almost seemed insincere at times maybe? Disingenuous? Just for a split second, and then it would be gone, replaced by Richie's casual and relaxed expression._

_It was almost like Richie didn't quite believe what he was saying, like it was completely foreign on his lips. Eddie wondered more than once if Richie wrote his own material, which was stupid. He knew absolutely nothing about this man, so who was Eddie to think he knew anything at all about this man's life?_

_And then sometimes, there was a distinct note of sadness in Richie's voice, a faint shimmer in his eyes. Usually, it came when Richie was talking about one of his many girlfriends, when the audience would be laughing their asses off at something. But just like the others, it would be gone almost immediately, leaving Eddie to wonder if anyone else noticed these things, or if it was just him. Just Eddie and his stupid brain that was probably making something out of nothing; pretending that he knew more about Richie than he really did. Just the effect of what Eddie was pretty sure was turning into a ridiculous crush on a goddamn semi-celebrity._

_But it made Eddie happy, so fuck it. Fuck Myra too if she didn't like it. Eddie wiggled around, making himself more comfortable on the couch cushions, already feeling his eyelids grow heavy, Richie's annoying voice calming to him for the most incomprehensible reason. Myra had told him not to spend the entire night on the couch, but that was exactly what he intended to do._

_Eddie had been watching this stupid comedian for nearly a year and the very next day, Eddie's entire would be turned on its head when he realized that what he knew about Richie Tozier went far beyond the videos he was restricted to on YouTube._

* * *

"You watched me for an entire year?" Richie asked, grinning like the stupid ass that he was.

"Give or take," Eddie replied nonchalantly. "Actually, I think it was just after my birthday last year when that first stupid video of yours showed up on my recommended page, and what possessed me to click it, I have no idea."

Richie had taken up residence on the chair next to Eddie's bed, rather than continue to balance on the edge of the mattress. Apparently, Richie found that sitting on the edge of the chair and leaning his arms onto the bed was much more comfortable. Who knew?

"I'm bummed that I missed your fortieth birthday this year," Richie said, rubbing his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand. "It's a big one."

"You would know," Eddie replied, "since you reached that glorious milestone a full six months before me. Old fucking geezer."

"Well, I'm going to go all out next year," Richie said firmly, nodding. "You'll be out of the hospital and well on your way to putting Myra behind you. We'll actually get to be together and this'll give me almost an entire year to think of a present."

"Just don't do anything embarrassing," Eddie said, bringing his free hand up to cover his eyes.

"I'm Richie Tozier. I'm embarrassing by nature."

"Great. I have a full fucking year to blow it all out of proportion in my mind. Thanks."

"But I still can't believe you were fucking _watching me_," Richie said, staring down at their hands. "And that you fucking _knew_ I didn't believe a goddamn word I was saying."

"It wasn't that obvious," Eddie reiterated. "Most of the time, I didn't even notice it. Just when it did happen, I caught it almost immediately." Eddie could feel his face growing warm as he admitted, "It probably came with watching some of those videos dozens of times. It was stupid."

"No, it wasn't," Richie told him, bringing Eddie's hand up to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Eddie's palm before he pressed it up against his cheek. "I think it's kind of romantic. Like you still remembered me after all this time."

Eddie could feel Richie's stubble digging into his skin, a sensation Eddie was coming to love. He ran his thumb over Richie's cheekbone, reveling in the way Richie leaned into his touch and closed his eyes in contentment. It almost made Eddie's breath catch in his throat, almost made Eddie's heart skip a beat that he was finally able to do all the things he dreamed about as a child.

"And fuck Myra if she didn't get why you needed it," Richie suddenly said, his happiness giving way to slight anger.

"Didn't get why I was developing a crush on a somewhat famous comedian," Eddie said around a snort. "Right."

"No, but regardless of whether it was me or not," Richie argued, "it was helping to calm your anxiety and help you sleep at night. I think it's fantastic that you were able to finding something like that, and like you said, it wasn't hurting anyone else. I don't get why Myra had to give you shit for it all the time."

"Because you're the Trashmouth, and it's what she does," Eddie said around a sigh. "It's why I keep putting off calling her at all. Or turning my phone back on."

Eddie picked up his phone from where it had been sitting on the mattress. There was unidentifiable crud stuck around the edges of the screen, no doubt the product of either being puked on by a fucking leper or traipsing around in the sewer. Why he hadn't just left his phone back at the inn while they went on their little excursion was anyone's guess. Eddie had already tried scrubbing at those spots on the screens with sanitary wipes for all the good it did; it looked like they had actually seeped underneath the screen itself, teeming with bacteria.

He would definitely need a new phone as soon as he was back on his feet, but it would have to do for now. Eddie would just have to use the speaker phone to keep it away from his face and wash his hands a dozen times after touching it.

"I can't keep putting this shit off," Eddie said, taking a deep and calming breath, although it did nothing of the sort. "Attila the Hun has waited long enough."

Eddie's hands shook as he powered his phone back on after the Losers had turned it off a week ago. His heart was pounding and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Eddie flinched away when he typed his password in.

Almost immediately, missed calls and missed texts flooded the screen, and if Eddie was standing up, he thought he probably would have fallen over. Eddie turned the screen away, hoping it would ease the anxiety that was currently ripping through him, and held it out for Richie to see instead.

Richie's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Holy shit," Richie mumbled. "_Two hundred and six missed calls_? _Seventy-six missed texts_? It's only been a week, and I'll have you know there are only one hundred and sixty-eight hours in said week. Attila the Hun is a savage."

"I can't believe you know that," Eddie said, "and it's been a week and a half now, but yeah." Eddie turned the filthy screen back towards him and said, "And my voicemail is fucking full. I can't wait to see how many crazy screaming messages she left me."

"Don't listen to them, man," Richie said, reaching out and laying his other hand on top of Eddie's, the one with the phone in it. Richie pulled it down and said, "It's only going to work you up before you call her and it'll just make things worse."

Eddie could feel the bile rising up in his throat at the thought of message after message of Myra's screaming. Eddie tried to swallow the feeling away, but it stayed there, burning in his esophagus. "I can't do this, man," Eddie said, his breath starting to get labored again.

"Remember what I told you in the sewer," Richie said. He took a moment to pull Eddie's hand towards him again, folding Eddie's fingers neatly over his own. He cupped it tightly with his other hand and said, "You're braver than you think."

Eddie grasped Richie's hand firmly, pretty sure of the fact that he'd never tire of touching Richie. It was one of the things he'd wanted most in his life, something he thought was always going to be out of reach, but now here it was. It was _his_. For some reason unbeknownst to Eddie, Richie loved him, and Eddie wasn't entirely sure what he had ever done to deserve the man of his dreams. To actually _have_ the love of his life.

And now when Richie touched him, it was like a lifeline. It was like a part of the anxiety that coursed through Eddie was being channeled through to Richie, siphoned from Eddie. It had always been like that since they had been children, but now, the feeling was even more pronounced. Now that Eddie knew that Richie was touching him out of nothing but love (and not under the guise of roughhousing), the feeling was exhilarating. It calmed him in ways that Eddie didn't even think possible. Made him feel grounded.

"Would it be better if I left?" Richie asked. "Give you some privacy?"

As much as Eddie didn't want to relinquish his hold on Richie, he couldn't help but think it might make him even more uncomfortable if Richie could hear the way Myra treated him. Not that Eddie had any issues with Richie hearing it at all; they were going to be together, and they needed to open and honest with each other. Rather, Eddie was embarrassed that he had put up with Myra's treatment for so very long.

Coming home to Derry had made Eddie realize so many things, and not just the friends and childhood he had forgotten. It was like this stupid fucking town opened his eyes to the fact Eddie deserved to be treated with love and respect. Or no, it really wasn't the town at all, was it? Eddie knew it was being back with the rest of the Losers that had taught him that. It was being back with Richie, who had never said a single nasty thing to Eddie in his life (unless he was teasing, which was a big difference). Yeah, Richie was constantly ribbing him, but it was part of their relationship, and Eddie knew none of it was ever malicious. When it came right down to it, when they were in serious circumstances like these, Richie was never anything but anything but loving and supportive. So very unlike Eddie's mother and Myra, and Eddie supposed that was what made Eddie fall for him at all.

"Yeah, maybe," Eddie said, still trying to swallow away the burning in his throat. "And now I'm rethinking even telling her I'm in the hospital. If I can't even talk to her on the phone, there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to handle having her here. I mean, can you _imagine_? This place would be in _chaos_, and like you said, I don't need that right now. I think you guys were right."

"So don't tell her."

"You're incorrigible."

"I'm just looking out for you," Richie said firmly. "The last thing I want is for you to have to deal with her while you're trying to heal. You don't need that kind of negativity right now."

Eddie smiled, now pulling Richie's hand towards his chest and holding it close to his heart, careful to avoid the still very tender scar just beneath it. Eddie couldn't quite find his voice, so he stared at Richie for a long time, every regret over the last twenty-seven years seeming to flood into his chest all at once.

Regret that he let so many years pass without telling Richie how he felt. That he had actually forgotten Richie in those intervening years, so much so that he had been convinced that no one else in this world could love him as much as Myra did. That he had given into marrying her, because he didn't think he deserved any better than to be controlled and manipulated. That he had ended up marrying a woman who was exactly like his mother, just like Beverly had married someone like her father.

Most of all though, Eddie regretted all of the time he had lost with Richie. Decades that they could have been together and been happy, now lost like the grains of sand falling through an hourglass. Gone, never to be gotten back, and Eddie would be damned if he was going to let that happen again.

Richie had been given back to him, and he wasn't going to let him go ever again. Eddie had said he wanted nothing more than to be with Richie and that was true. Eddie had had the courage to make his feelings known, so now he had to make his dreams come true. The very first step to making that happen was to start coming clean to Myra. Eddie already did the scariest thing he ever thought possible – telling Richie he loved him – so Eddie could do this too. He could.

_You're braver than you think._

"Yeah," Eddie finally agreed. "Maybe I should just start off by telling her it's over. I think letting her come here at all without telling her I don't love her beforehand would just be leading her on. And I don't want to have to tell her that here." Eddie made a face as he realized what his words implied. "Or maybe that's just cowardly, doing this all over the phone. I don't know."

"Eddie," Richie said, shaking his head. "I told you, you're not cowardly. You're braver than I am by far. Do what feels comfortable to you right now. If you're uneasy with having her come here, then you shouldn't feel obligated to."

Richie got to his feet a moment later and leaned over Eddie's bed. He cupped Eddie's cheek and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie's forehead.

"I'll be right outside," Richie whispered before releasing his hold on Eddie and turning to leave the room.

Just before he got to the door, Eddie called, "Richie?" When the other man stopped and turned back to him, Eddie said, "Thank you."

Richie smiled at him, those tears forming in his eyes again. _Jesus_, Eddie thought. This was all still very new to him, and Eddie had a hard time believing that _he_ was the reason that Richie was suddenly so emotional.

"I love you," Richie told him.

Eddie's chest suddenly felt tight again, but for an entirely good reason. For an entirely different reason than the way his anxiety often grabbed ahold of his chest and squeezed. Breathing hard, Eddie replied, "I love you."

"Knock her dead, Eds."

When Richie was gone, Eddie quickly picked up his phone from his lap, found Myra's number, and dialed it before he could lose his nerve. She answered after one ring, a fact that didn't surprise Eddie in the least.

"EDWARD KASPBRAK, WHERE ON EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

Eddie had already been holding his phone away from his face, but he pulled it away even farther. Myra screamed so loud, it made Eddie's ears ring. In fact, Eddie would have been surprised if the entire hospital didn't hear her end of the conversation.

"Myra," Eddie began, trying to keep his voice as calm and as even as possible. "Myra, calm down."

"I will not calm down!" Myra continued to yell, although her tone had dropped slightly. "My husband goes missing for weeks on end without a word to me?! Just who do you think you are?!"

"It was eleven days, and I wasn't missing," Eddie replied, keeping his eyes closed against the onslaught that Myra was launching at him. He tried to keep his breathing slow and even, imagining that Richie still might be holding his hand. Keeping him grounded. "You've known exactly where I was this entire time, and if I remember correctly, you told me not to come home ever again. Does that not still stand?"

A moment of silence punctuated the room before Myra said, "I was worried about you! How dare you ignore all of my calls and messages! I thought something happened to you! I was ready to call the police!"

"And there's nothing they could have done," Eddie replied tiredly. "I'm an adult man who was honest with the fact that he was leaving town. No foul play involved at all."

"I thought your plane crashed!" Myra screamed next. "I haven't heard you from this entire time so what was I supposed to think?! I've been watching the news, looking for reports about crashed planes! I've been calling the airline, trying to find out if something happened. How dare you do that to me!"

It was the first time during this phone call that Eddie felt his resolve beginning to crumble. Underneath all of her shouting, Myra truly did sound genuinely worried about him, and Eddie supposed it was shitty of him to leave her hanging all this time. He could have at least called her when he first arrived in Derry to let her know that he had arrived safely.

"I'm sorry, Myra," Eddie said around a sigh. That burning feeling was rising in his throat again, and he tried to ignore it. "I've been with my friends and…I honestly didn't know if we were through or not. And you haven't answered my question."

More silence on Myra's end of the line. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter still. "I was angry, Eddie-kins. You know I worry when you go on trips and I like to be hold when you arrive safely."

It was amazing the way Myra's demeanor changed completely when she thought she was pushing Eddie too far. The way she called him by that abhorrent nickname when she was trying to reel him back in.

Jesus, why hadn't Eddie been able to see all of this before? The way she so easily _manipulated_ him?

"I know," Eddie said, then his next breath came in a gasp. He let out a shuddering sound, reminding himself that he was still on oxygen, so there was no reason for this. None. The doctors told him that if he felt short of breath, to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth, so that was what he did. Nice deep breaths in and out, just like Richie had always told him to do.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Eddie asked, his voice now wavering slightly. There was something in Myra's tone that was making him feel sorry for her, and Eddie knew she was only trying to control him again. To get him to do what she wanted. "I've just realized a lot of things since I've been here."

Again, Myra didn't respond right away. After a few moments, she asked, "When are you coming home?"

"I don't know," Eddie replied. "Not…not for a while yet, I don't think."

"You don't _think_?" Myra asked snidely.

That made Eddie push back again. "No, I don't," he said. "I honestly don't. In fact…I don't know if I'm ever going to come back."

That was at least partially true. Eddie sure as hell wasn't going to spend the rest of his life in Derry, but he certainly had no intention of ever returning to his home in New York again. He thought Myra should at least be aware of that much.

"Edward Kaspbrak," Myra said, her voice now low and gravelly. "Are you having an _affair_?"

It was the first time Eddie didn't have a response for her. "Myra-" he tried, but she cut him off.

"_Are you_?" she demanded. When Eddie didn't reply, she asked, "_What's her name_?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Eddie had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Of course Myra thought it was a woman – probably some young, blond twenty-something that was a fraction of Myra's body weight. If only she knew that it was that crass comedian that Eddie liked to fall asleep to.

It wasn't funny, but it was.

"_Who is she_?" Myra asked when Eddie still didn't answer.

"There is no _she_, Myra." For once, Eddie was glad to be able to speak the entire truth to her. She was still his wife, and he didn't want to lie to her, but she didn't give him a whole lot of options. Then again, Eddie supposed he might be acting the same way if the tables were turn.

That was if Myra wasn't such a suffocating presence in his life. In fact, maybe that was why Eddie now saw her for what she was – mean, and manipulative, and overbearing, just like his mother. Maybe it was finally being away from her that had made him realize just how much he lived under her thumb.

It was like when Eddie had gotten his cast off. He had grown so accustomed to it being there, he almost didn't realize how different it would feel once it was gone. It had been a godawful, itchy pain in the ass, yes, but it had become a part of him in a way. When it had finally been cut off, he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have air on his bare skin. Not having to drag the weight of it around anymore made him feel like a whole new person. All things he hadn't been expecting until it was gone.

Eddie had never gone more than twenty-four hours without speaking to Myra. Even when he had been out of town on business, she still kept a close watch on him, expecting daily check-ins. Eddie had been ignoring her since his plane landed in Maine, and he couldn't remember ever feeling so damn free in his entire life. It was amazing.

"Bullshit," Myra said, pulling Eddie from his thoughts.

"There isn't, okay?" Eddie asked. "Absolutely no _she_ to speak of. I've just been doing a lot of thinking since I've been here, and…you know this isn't working out."

There. He said it – exactly what both he and Myra had been thinking for at least half of their marriage.

"Eddie-" Myra began, but it was Eddie's turn to cut her off.

"I want a divorce."

More silence from Myra. If not for the length of this phone call still climbing on his screen, Eddie would have assumed she had hung up on him.

Eddie flinched then, again feeling like shit for dumping all of this on her over the phone. But Eddie absolutely didn't want her to come here, and it couldn't wait until he got out of the hospital and went home to retrieve his things to tell her. He would have just been leading her on, and that wasn't fair to her either.

"I'm sorry," Eddie sighed. "This is a really, really awful way to tell you-"

"You are a _coward_, Edward Kaspbrak," Myra bit out. "Come here and tell me that to my _face_!"

Eddie could feel his bottom lip quivering against Myra's insult. And he knew that what she was saying was the truth. He pressed his free hand to his eyes, praying that he wouldn't start crying on the phone with her.

"I'm sorry," Eddie bit out again, and it was absolutely no use trying his voice steady anymore. It was quivering with anger, and fear, and shame – every single one of those things directed at himself. "I know this isn't fair to you, but…I told you, I'm not coming home." He paused and swallowed, his attempts to keep himself calm now a lost cause. "I mean, I will come to get my things and sort everything out, but-"

"They have couple's counseling," Myra interrupted him. She had now realized that yelling didn't work, and being nice didn't work, so she was starting to throw things at the wall to see what stuck. "We could go see someone."

"Myra," Eddie said again, and then he mentally kicked himself when her name came out enveloped in a loud sob. Eddie pressed his hand over his mouth, hoping against hope that it wouldn't happen again. "It isn't something that can be fixed," he said when he removed his hand. "I can't…" Eddie paused again, considering the best possible way to tell her the truth. "I can't force myself to have feelings that aren't there."

The duration of the call still kept climbing, and still Myra said nothing. She was out of words, it seemed.

"I'm sorry-" Eddie said again, but that was when Myra seemed to find her voice.

"Yeah," she snapped, "you _are_ sorry. You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

The timestamp on his phone stopped and then the words '_call ended'_ told him that Myra had finally had enough of his shit and hung up on him. To start looking for a good lawyer apparently, because she and Eddie both knew she didn't have one.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered, letting his phone fall to the mattress next to him. All his previous concerns about the germs swarming around under the screen were all but forgotten, now replaced with the fact that he just treated his wife like complete and utter shit. Yes, she was abusive. Eddie realized that now, but he never wanted to feel like he was throwing her out with the trash.

He never wanted to get Richie involved in something so messy either. Richie was somewhat famous, and Eddie was suddenly terrified that if his name ever came up, that it would be all over the news. Eddie could see the headlines now.

_TRASHMOUTH: HUMORIST OR HOMEWRECKER?_

How could Eddie ever expect Richie to get involved in this shit? How could he, in good conscious, assume that Richie would wait while Eddie sorted all of this out? Richie said he didn't have any problem doing so, but what if it ended up affecting Richie's career, and he came to resent Eddie for it?

Why had Eddie ever resigned himself to marrying this woman in the first place? Richie had been right – it had been _easy_. Easy to fall back into being controlled and dominated by a woman. Easy to fall back into the pattern of being so submissive, he was afraid of his own shadow sometimes.

Eddie had fucked shit up and he knew he had to fix them. He had to dig his feet in and stand up for himself like he had never done before. The only problem was, Eddie needed to have Richie by his side throughout all of this, and he wasn't sure that Richie's resolve would remain when all was said and done.

He wasn't even sure if Richie would still want him. He said he did, but Richie deserved to be happy too; he didn't need to be responsible for an anxiety-laden hypochondriac with too much fucking baggage.

Eddie finally had a chance to truly be happy, and he was certain that it was about to be ripped out of his hands before he even really had it.

Richie's emotions must have been rubbing off on him, because Eddie was suddenly sobbing. This, however, made his entire chest throb, it felt like he was having a heart attack. Eddie placed a hand over his bandages, hoping that the pressure would help, but it only made the pounding pain intensify.

Eddie sobbed again, but this time it was from physical pain entirely. Jesus Christ, was he going into respiratory distress again? Wasn't that what Richie had called it? Was he going into cardiac arrest? Eddie didn't suppose so, because wouldn't one of his many monitors set off some sort of alarm? But Eddie felt like he was suffocating again.

Eddie fumbled for his phone again, quickly scrolling through the names until he found Richie's, and quickly typed out three words before he pressed _send_.

_I need you._

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: Oh, wow. It's really, really hard to write about Myra without making her seem like a complete asshole. I'm really trying hard not to, but it's difficult when we know so little about her and what we do know is filtered through so many other perspectives. I also don't want to have Eddie be a complete asshole to her in return considering that they are married. I really struggled with her in this chapter, and I hope I didn't go too far in either direction!_


	7. Chapter 7: Stanley's Letter

**Brave  
**Chapter 7 – Stanley's Letter

When Richie made his way back out to the waiting area, he found the rest of the Losers huddled over something on the far side of the room. Bev and Ben were sitting in a couple of the chairs next to each other, while Mike and Bill stood, peering down at something that Bev appeared to be holding. They all glanced up at Richie when they heard him enter.

"He's calling Attila the Hun," Richie told them, pointing back over his shoulder with his thumb. When they stared at him like he was a lunatic (which wasn't that out of the ordinary actually), he clarified, "His wife. Thought I'd give him some privacy while he deals with her wrath."

It warmed Richie's heart to think that he and Eddie were already making new inside jokes between them that the others didn't know about; Myra would forever and always be Attila the Hun to them now.

The Losers, however, were still staring at Richie like they didn't know how to respond. Richie looked down at himself, suddenly self-conscious. There was nothing on his sweatshirt. Had Eddie perhaps mussed his hair at one point? Could they tell he had been kissing Eddie somehow? Richie wanted to reach up and pat down his hair and feel his face, but he stood frozen to his spot, not wanting to be too obvious.

Richie swallowed hard. "What?" he asked, even though he was terrified of the answer he might receive. "Why are you looking at me like I'm a fucking space clown?"

Beverly suddenly sniffled, quickly wiping at her eyes with a crumpled up tissue.

"_What_?" Richie asked again, concern flooding his voice this time. He frowned deeply, that familiar sense of dread consuming his stomach. "Christ, did somebody die?" He had meant it as a joke, but one which quickly fell flat. Richie knew it was way too soon after…everything. After losing Stan and almost losing Eddie as well.

But everyone that Richie loved most in the world was in this hospital and they were all fine (or on their way to being okay at the very least), so he couldn't imagine what could be wrong. Unless something had happened to one of their families – Bill's wife perhaps?

Beverly handed Mike the piece of paper she had been holding – what the rest of the Losers had been huddled around when Richie had first entered the room. That was when Richie first took notice of the paper and realized that it looked like a letter.

Mike cleared his throat then crossed the room to Richie, holding the letter out for him. "This arrived from Stan this morning. I think Patty sent a copy to each of us, but this is the one I got."

"Stan?" Richie asked, taking the letter from Mike. Richie stared down at it, his eyes unfocused, an uncomfortable feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. He now knew why Bev had been crying, and truth be told, Richie didn't really need to read the letter to know what he was holding in his hands. "He wrote us suicide notes?" Richie asked, looking up at the others.

"No," Bill said firmly, "he says that's n-not what it is."

Richie looked back down at the letter, his eyes going to Stanley's signature at the end. Richie rubbed the pad of his thumb over the pen lines there, frowning deeply. Wishing there was a fucking way to go back to that point in time – to when Stan wrote these words – and tell him he didn't have to do this. To tell him that they were all scared, but that they would get through it together, just as they had before.

Swallowing at the lump that had formed in his throat, Richie slowly made his way over to one of the chairs, sinking down into it. His back was facing away from the others, and that was the way he wanted it for now. He wanted to sit in relative privacy while he read Stan's last words to them. Richie returned his glance to the beginning of the letter and began to read, but he only made it about halfway through before he was completely caught off guard by Stanley's words. Richie had never read a suicide note before in his life, but this wasn't exactly what he had been expecting to read. He supposed that that was why Stan said it wasn't a suicide note.

_Be who you want to be. Be proud. And if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go._

Richie stared at these words for what felt like an inordinately long period of time. The rest of the Losers must have assumed that he finished the letter and was simply rereading it or just letting Stanley's words sink in. The fact of the matter was that Richie still hadn't even gotten to the end of the letter yet.

This was _Mike's_ letter and Stan had apparently sent one to all of them. However, Mike seemed to assume (and Richie agreed) that the same letter had been given to each of them; there was nothing to suggest that this letter was directed at Mike in particular, and it was addressed to the Losers as a whole.

Why then did it feel like those lines were specifically directed at Richie? He thought he had always done a pretty good job of hiding his sexuality, of hiding his crush on Eddie, and he never had any reason to believe that Losers ever suspected that he was different. But Jesus Christ, this felt like Stanley was blatantly telling Richie that he should be proud of who he was.

Richie supposed those words could be interpreted in a number of different ways and applied to all sorts of situations, but it didn't feel that way. Stanley was calling him out, and it was his use of the word 'proud' in particular that made Richie think that. A word that was used so much in terms of sexuality, it was a little bit difficult to separate the two.

Then Richie read the next part again, about never letting go of someone worth holding onto. Goddamn it if Stanley wasn't talking to Richie and Eddie specifically here. Richie knew that he always could have been speaking to Ben and Beverly, but it still didn't quite feel that way. Especially not when it was preceded by the fucking word 'proud'.

What had Eddie said not so very long ago? That he was willing to bet that at least one or two of the Losers had already picked up on the attraction between Richie and Eddie despite their very best efforts to keep it hidden and buried. Was this what Stanley was telling them? That he knew Richie and Eddie had been desperately in love with each other since forever and should just go for it already?

"Are you okay?" Beverly asked from behind him. At some point, she must have gotten up from her chair and crossed the room to him. A moment later, Richie felt his hand settle onto his shoulder.

Richie finally looked up from the letter, turning around in his seat and staring up at Bev like he had never seen her before. Richie had been so engrossed in Stan's letter, in trying to figure out exactly what Stan had meant by his words, that Richie almost seemed to have forgotten where he was. For a moment, the only things that had seemed to exist were Richie and Stanley's written words on the paper. Richie blinked, trying to force his mind back to reality.

"Yeah," Richie said, although he really wasn't. He had so many fucking questions, and he had no idea where to begin. He only wished that Stan was alive so that he could ask him. Then Richie suddenly felt the urge to show this letter to Eddie, to ask him exactly what he thought Stan's intentions had been.

This thought pushed away the heaviness that had settled into Richie's chest, reminding him that he still had Eddie down the hall. His Eddie was still fucking alive and they would eventually work out all the shit that still stood in their way. Eddie was in love with him and they would figure this all out together just like they always had.

"I just…didn't expect this," Richie said, hunching back over the letter.

"None of us did," she whispered. "But I think we're going to get pizza for dinner. Get the hell out of here for a bit and talk about…this. Want to come along?" she asked Richie.

"No…thanks," Richie said. He swallowed several times, realizing that all the saliva had seemed to evaporate from his mouth. "Um…" Richie mumbled, adjusting his glasses on his nose and running a hand through his hair. "Eddie's on the phone with his wife, don't forget. He'll probably need someone to calm him down after he hangs up with her. I should be here for him."

Even though Eddie was now out of the woods, Richie still refused to leave the hospital. He had some absurd idea that as soon as he set foot outside the building, something might happen to Eddie. His heart might stop or he might go into respiratory distress again. Richie couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Eddie had had his episode of respiratory distress when Richie had left his room. What if Richie left the hospital completely, and something even worse happened? Richie would never be able to forgive himself for that, if he wasn't here for Eddie when he needed him the most. Richie had kept saying all along that he would leave the hospital once they knew that Eddie would be okay, but he wanted to amend that now; Richie didn't think he would be quite prepared to leave until he knew that Eddie was coming with him.

It was ridiculous and Richie knew it. It would most likely be weeks before Eddie would be able to leave, but Richie had already been living at the hospital for the past eight days. A few more weeks weren't going to kill him, and hell, Richie had already more or less become a fixture around here; all the doctors and nurses knew his name, and none of them batted an eye when he took showers in Eddie's bathroom.

"Can I keep this to show to Eddie?" Richie asked Mike, giving the paper in his hands a small shake.

"Yeah, man," Mike said. "Keep it for as long as you need."

As the rest of the Losers were gathering up their things to leave, Richie turned back to the letter in his hands. He kept reading those same lines over and over, trying to figure exactly what Stan had meant by them. If he was speaking directly to Richie with those words or not. Oh god, what Richie wouldn't give if he could ask Stan directly if he knew things which Richie had tried to hide even from himself.

"You guys go ahead," Ben said from behind Richie. "I'll catch up with you guys at the pizza place."

Richie heard Mike, Bev, and Bill exiting the room to leave him alone with Ben. Richie still didn't turn around, didn't give Ben the least bit of attention, but kept his eyes glued to Stanley's letter.

"Rich, listen," Ben said when the others were gone, "you remember what I told you back in your room at the inn? When I was trying to convince you not to leave?"

Richie looked back over his shoulder at Ben and whispered, "Yeah."

"That still stands, you know."

* * *

_"__Rich?" Ben asked, knocking on Richie's closed door, his voice slightly muffled._

_Richie didn't reply, but he kept shoving things into his bag haphazardly. God, Eddie would probably have a fit at the mess Richie was making out of his clothes, at the wrinkles that would be forming in the fabric. Hell, Eddie would probably have coronary if he knew Richie shoved all his toiletries in with his clothes too, because Eddie had his own separate bag for those things._

_"__Come on, man," came Ben's voice on the other side of his door. "I can hear you in there. Can I talk to you for a second?"_

_Richie paused, looking around the room to see if he had left anything behind. He huffed in annoyance at Ben, then quickly turned on his heel to open the door. Richie still didn't stop to acknowledge Ben, but went to his dresser, wrenching the drawers open to make sure they were empty._

_"__What happened?" Ben asked quietly, hovering in the doorway._

_"__Nothing," Richie muttered, shoving the last drawer of the dresser closed with a _snap_._

_"__Richie," Ben said, taking a step into the room. "We're all scared, you know. It's nothing to be ashamed of."_

_"__Did I say I was scared?" Richie snapped, and it was quite possibly the stupidest question that had ever been asked. Of course he was fucking terrified. They all were and they all knew it. Weren't they way past the point of trying to hide it from each other?_

_Richie turned around, his back to Ben, glancing about the room for anything else he may have missed. When he didn't see anything to occupy himself with, Richie placed his hands on his hips and stared down at the floor._

_He would never know what in god's name had possessed him to say what he said next, but the words were out of Richie's mouth before he could really even process them._

_"__But that's not what I'm ashamed of."_

_A thick silence fell into the room, one that felt like it was pressing in on Richie from all sides. He could feel Ben's eyes on his back, questioning, judging._

_"__You know you don't have to be ashamed," Ben said after nearly a minute. "Not with us. We didn't judge each other then and we don't now. That's why we fucking became friends in the first place."_

_Richie finally turned around to face Ben. He stared into Ben's kind hazel eyes, and it was truly the first time in Richie's life he thought he felt safe enough to tell the truth. He could almost feel those words somewhere in his throat, bubbling to the surface, almost on his tongue – 'I'm gay.' Just as quickly though, Richie pushed them away._

_"__I know," Richie said instead, diverting his gaze to the carpet again. He thought he could feel his cheeks growing warm, but he hoped that Ben wouldn't notice._

_"__I want to run too," Ben told him, his voice almost straining under his effort to be sympathetic, understanding. "What I saw at the fucking school, Jesus." Ben closed his eyes, running his hand over them furiously._

_Richie wanted to tell him that at least Pennywise probably wasn't mocking him for his sexuality, singing that godawful song to him in that grating, condescending voice of his_.

I know your secret, your dirty little secret.

_Richie pressed a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that suddenly swooped into his stomach. God, it wouldn't do for Richie to run to the fucking bathroom and vomit right now, would it? Not when he was trying his best to act all nonchalant in front of Ben._

_"__So much shit I wish I could forget," Ben whispered, his eyes still closed against the memories. "So much shit I thought I _had_ forgotten. This is what he does," Ben said then. He opened his eyes and stared intently at Richie, almost like he knew exactly what it was Richie was thinking. "He fucks with us. But he also reminded me of something."_

_Richie slowly glanced back up at Ben, his gaze questioning._

_Ben took a deep breath before he went on. "When I was little, he mocked me for being fat and for not having any friends because of it. And I remember blatantly telling him once that he was wrong." Ben raised an index finger, using it to emphasize his point. "He was wrong, because you guys _were_ my friends – _are_ my friends – as much as he wanted me to believe otherwise. And I guess that's why I'm still here. Because I don't want any of us to die. You guys are the only real family I've ever had and losing Stanley was enough. I'm still here to stand up for all of us, because Losers stick together, right?"_

_As much as Richie wanted to tell Ben he was full of shit, to turn around and run away then and there, he couldn't. Because goddamn it, he was right. Richie knew he was right._

_"Yeah, man."_

* * *

"Losers stick together," Ben said, coming around the row of hospital chairs to get into Richie's field of vision. "It was true then and it's true now. We killed that fucking clown once and for all because we were _together_. Because we refused to let fear divide us. That's not going to change now."

Richie kept staring down at Stan's letter, frowning deeply, his heart in throat. He refused to meet Ben's eyes, but he could feel them on him, still knowing, still judging. Just like everyone always was with someone like him. The paper started to shake ever so slightly in Richie's grip, trying desperately to figure out exactly what he was supposed to say.

Jesus, had Eddie been that correct? Now it seemed like not only Stan, but Ben too knew the truth about Richie. But Richie had no idea what he was supposed to do. Was Ben expecting him to simply step out of the closet like he hadn't firmly been in there for his entire life? Did Ben truly think it was that easy, to be honest about something that Richie could barely even admit to himself, even after nearly thirty years?

Was that even what Ben was telling him? Or was Richie completely off the mark, completely consumed in his own fear and shame?

Silently, Ben closed the distance between them and sat next to Richie. He didn't say anything at first, just sat next to Richie in companionable silence. Or that was probably what Ben thought it was. Meanwhile, Richie wished a giant hole in the floor would open up so that he could crawl into it.

"You know nothing you could ever tell me could change how I feel about you, right?" Ben asked tentatively. "That's not who I am, and I will continue to love you for whoever you are."

Richie's frown deepened and he felt his eyes burning with tears again. Goddamn it. Hadn't he cried all that shit out in the shower last week? He hadn't cried again since then, so he thought he had finally let out all the tears he'd had. But no. Here they were again, making their presence known.

Richie closed his eyes against them, wishing that he could believe Ben's words. These were words that he always hoped he would hear if he chose to come out to people, but in the end, Richie knew it would never happen. There was a reason Richie was so far in the closet as he was; because those like him were always judged just for the simple fact that they loved someone that the rest of society disapproved of.

Except where Eddie was concerned, Richie supposed. Eddie certainly didn't hate him, but as fate would have it, Eddie loved him just as much as Richie loved him. That was a special circumstance. Certainly not everyone else would be as welcoming of this news.

Except maybe for Stan too. Richie glanced over those words again, bleary through the unshed tears in his eyes.

_Be who you want to be. Be proud. _And then a little bit farther down the letter,_ be brave._

God, did that really mean what Richie wanted it to mean? Was Stan really telling him that he should be _proud_ of the fact that he was _gay_? To be _brave_ and fucking tell people? And Jesus, did Ben already know too, giving him what would quite possibly be the easiest fucking way in the world to come out? Was that _really_ what Ben was referring to?

The tears finally started spilling over his eyelids, and Richie pulled his glasses off with his free hand. He closed his eyes and pressed the back of his hand against them, almost feeling the urge to get up and run the fuck away again. Richie really had no idea what Ben wanted from him. Did he truly want Richie to open up about his dirty little secret? The one that he had hidden from everyone in the world for so long, including himself? Did Ben really want Richie to bare the deepest, darkest part of himself, the one that there was absolutely no way back from? Once Richie was honest about this, there was no going back. Ben would know forever, and god only knew what he would do with that information.

But this was Ben, Richie reminded himself. Could Richie ever, in even his very darkest nightmares about this shit, imagine Ben doing anything cruel or vindictive with the knowledge of Richie's sexuality? Imagine him telling the rest of the Losers behind his back and laughing about it? Imagine him going on social media and publicly outing him? Could he even imagine Ben _hating_ him for it? Could he imagine Ben hating _anybody_?

No, because this was _Ben_. Ben, who had spent his entire childhood being made fun of for stupid shit. Really, what the fuck was Richie afraid was going to happen? When he really sat down and thought about it, he had no fucking clue. Not anymore, but Richie decided when he focused on only one person, it didn't seem as nearly as scary as the whole world knowing all at once.

Those stupid sobs started to rumble through his back again, and Richie didn't have the fucking energy to stop them. He was tired. He was tired of all the fear that that fucking clown had pounded into him. He was tired of being stressed out about Eddie, not knowing if the love of his life would survive or not. He was tired of living a lie for his entire life, pretending that he very clearly didn't have feelings for his best friend in the least. He was tired of hiding in a _closet_.

He was _tired_.

Ben wouldn't really be sitting here, telling Richie that he would love him no matter what, unless he truly meant it, would he? Did he expect Ben to stand up at the truth, telling Richie that he was disgusting and he never wanted to speak to him again?

No, because again, this was _Ben_.

_Ben_.

"All right," Richie finally spoke, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He still didn't look at Ben, instead keeping his eyes pressed up against the back of his hand. His eyes were closed as tightly as possible, still scared to death of Ben's reaction. He was shaking from so much pent up emotion, he wasn't even sure he could form the words, but Richie took a deep breath and finally whispered, "I'm…gay."

His voice cracked on the word, and Richie didn't think Ben had heard him at first, because he'd spoken so quietly. The silence in the room seemed to grow to encompass them both after that. Richie's heart was beating impossibly hard and fast, almost feeling like it would explode inside his chest. Just then, however, Richie felt Ben's hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently.

"And I still love you, man," Ben told him. "Not in that way though, because you're totally not my type, but your mom on the other hand-" Ben broke off, not needing to finish his words.

Richie gasped in relief then snorted with laughter, rubbing at his eyes to try and wipe away the tears that had gathered on his eyelashes. God, it felt good to laugh and it felt good to know that Ben would use one of Richie's favorite go-to jokes to let him know that nothing would change.

A sob of relief escaped from Richie and he relaxed into Ben's touch, leaning against him and resting his head on Ben's shoulder. Ben brought his other arm up, crossing it over Richie's chest and gripping his shoulder tightly.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore, okay?" Ben asked, rubbing his hand up and down Richie's back. "Not about what I'll think. You're still Richie."

Richie continued to wipe the tears from his eyes and asked, "How long have you known?"

Ben didn't answer him for awhile as he considered his response. "I don't even know," he finally replied. "I think I suspected when we were kids, but…I don't remember for sure. I'd forgotten a lot of what made me think that in first place until…the Jade of the Orient. You called me hot. And gorgeous."

"That doesn't mean anything!" Richie cried indignantly, pulling away from Ben. "I mean, I think Bev's gorgeous too, but that doesn't mean I want to jump her bones."

"And did you ever make a production out of telling her so?"

"I was making a production of the fact that you'd lost weight."

"Well, I'm pretty sure you never looked at Bev like you did when you told me that."

"Jesus Christ," Richie muttered, running a nervous hand through his hair. "It's just my Trashmouth at it again. I always thought I was being so subtle about everything, but I just say shit without thinking it through. And apparently, I look at men I think are hot without thinking either."

"Then when we were in your room at the townhouse," Ben continued to answer Richie's question, "and you said that being afraid wasn't what you were ashamed of."

"Trashmouth strikes again."

"Things came flooding back so damn fast," Ben continued, "I couldn't believe I'd forgotten them. I…it was a lot of little things, I guess, but there was one thing in particular that sort of made me realize it – I couldn't remember you talking about having a crush on anyone _ever_."

"I wasn't the only one!"

"Well, yeah," Ben agreed, "and Eddie, because his mother would have fucking killed him if she knew he thought about such things."

The mention of Eddie's name made Richie wonder if Ben knew the full truth – that he'd _had_ a crush on someone for fucking ever. It just wasn't the conventional type of crush that people expected and he'd hidden it as a result. Richie knew that if Ben didn't judge him for being gay, then he certainly wasn't going to think anything of the fact that he was head over heels in love with Eddie. But Richie didn't say anything about it. Not just yet. This was already a big step for Richie, and he'd take it one thing at a time. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

"And you talked a lot of shit," Ben continued on, "especially about Eddie's mom, but when it came right down to it…it kind of felt like something was missing. Not quite…_right_, you know?"

Richie frowned deeply and this caused Ben to grimace.

"And that was a poor choice of words," Ben said. "I didn't mean it like that. Just that…something didn't _fit_. You talked about fucking Eddie's mom all the time, but never about anyone else. I don't think I really realized it back then. Not exactly, because…Derry. And all of the other small towns I'd lived in."

Richie hummed in agreement, sniffling quietly. "Eddie's mom was my way of hiding it. Of trying to seem manly or something. It was stupid."

"Then with the talk we had in your room," Ben added, "it sort of made me remember all of that."

"Maybe I wanted you to figure it out," Richie admitted, shaking his head. "Maybe I was sick and tired of hiding who I was. I mean, I didn't really intend to say that. I told you, things just sort of come out sometimes, but…I think I was hoping that you would might know what it meant. You are one of the fucking smartest out of all of us."

"And then the day that we brought Eddie in," Ben continued, "and you saw that article on Adrian Mellon-"

"Was I that fucking obvious?" Richie immediately asked, frowning at the thought.

"Not entirely," Ben reassured him. "I think I only noticed it, because of what you'd said back at the townhouse. That was when I knew that my suspicions were spot on, because you almost looked like you wanted to jump out of your own skin. You looked so…uncomfortable. Scared. Like a deer caught in between headlights. And I didn't want you be anymore. Not with me."

Richie replaced his glasses on his nose and smiled. "Thanks, man. Eddie told me that none of you would care, that I should just come out and tell you, but I didn't want to. I was still so fucking terrified."

"Eddie knows then?"

Richie paused, pressing his teeth over his bottom lip. "Just recently," Richie said around small laugh. "It just kind of came out when we were talking in his room and…he's the first person I ever told."

"So I'm the second?"

"Yeah."

Ben smiled back at him. "I'm glad I could be."

"Listen," Richie said, feeling a familiar sensation of fear settle into his stomach, "you won't tell anyone else, will you? Not even the other Losers? Because you and Eddie are the only two people that know and-"

"Your secret's safe," Ben cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on Richie's shoulder. "It's not my place to say anything. That's for you to tell people if and when you feel ready."

"Thank you," Richie said, around a long breath. "I don't even-" Just then, Richie's phone pinged, notifying him of a text message. "Sorry," Richie muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling it out.

There was a single text message from Eddie: _I need you._

"I think Eddie's done with his phone call with Attila the Hun," Richie said. "Damn woman probably gave him a panic attack, because he's requesting my presence."

"She must really be bad if he wants to talk to you now."

"Yeah, yeah," Richie said, locking his phone and replacing it in his pocket as he got up from his chair. "I could show him Stan's letter too," he said, suddenly realizing that he still held the paper in question in his hand. "Can we…?" he started to ask, but Ben stopped him again.

"Yeah, go," Ben said, motioning back towards the intensive care unit. "Make sure Eddie's okay, because there's a damn reason we didn't call that woman ourselves. We'll talk about this later. Are you going to be okay if I go meet the others then?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

Richie smiled. "I am now. Thank you." He nodded gently, trying his best to convey his thoughts in a way that he knew his words never could.

"Anytime," Ben said, returning his smile once again. "Losers stick together."

Richie was still smiling as he turned, making his way back towards Eddie's room. Maybe, just maybe, things would actually be okay. Maybe for the very first time in Richie's life, he could start living the life he wanted to, and not the one he thought he was supposed to.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: The conversation between Richie and Ben was originally going to be between Richie and Beverly, but she somehow morphed into Ben somewhere along the way. Especially when I started thinking about including a flashback to Richie and Ben's conversation at the townhouse and what they might have said to each other. Once I had that conversation planned out, this seemed like a natural progression from that. This chapter got completely out of hand, because I was planning on having the next part of Richie and Eddie's conversation, but that obviously didn't happen. We'll get back to Eddie in the next chapter!_

_Thank you so much to everyone who's commented so far. Your words mean so much to me and please do feel free to leave your own ideas so I know what you guys would like to see!_


	8. Chapter 8: Someone Worth Holding Onto

_Author's note: I apologize for the wait on this chapter. Things have been really busy at work with the holidays and I've been under the weather off and on this month, not really feeling up to writing. But here it is finally! I hope you enjoy and happy holidays, my lovely readers!_

**Brave  
**Chapter 8 – Someone Worth Holding Onto

"Did you talk to Attila the Hun?" Richie asked as he stepped into Eddie's room. The smile on Richie's face, however, suddenly fell when he saw the state that Eddie was in.

Eddie's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth open in an expression of pain. He was gasping loudly for air, even though the doctors still had him on oxygen. Eddie's hands were balled up into fists, grasping at the sheet underneath him. He kept arching his back in throes of his gasps, but then would whine in pain, falling back against the mattress.

"Hey," Richie said, quickly crossing the room to Eddie's bed. He folded up Stanley's letter, placing it inside the large pocket of his hoodie. Sitting down on the edge of the mattress again, careful not to jostle Eddie, Richie reached out and gently placed his hands on Eddie's tense and shaking shoulders. "I'm here. Breathe, man – in through your nose, hold, and out through your mouth, remember?" He ran his thumbs lightly over Eddie's bare skin near his neck.

Eddie sucked in another rattling breath through his mouth before he shut it, nodding at Richie's words. He exhaled forcefully through his nose, before he breathed in again and then let it through his mouth. An expression of determination settled over his features as he concentrated on trying to get his breathing under control again.

Richie wanted to ask him what had happened, but that would have been the world's dumbest question; all it took was one look at Eddie to know the answer to that. "Don't let her do this to you," Richie said instead.

"She's gonna-" Eddie said, breaking off to expel a breath, "-cause problems. She's _pissed_."

"Well, _yeah_," Richie agreed. "She just found out she's lost the hottest fucking guy on the face of the earth. I'd be concerned if she _wasn't_ angry."

This caused Eddie to open his eyes, staring at Richie like he was out of his mind. Again, this was nothing new to Richie, but his words had had the desired effect. Eddie closed his eyes again, but then he shook his head in amusement. He kept breathing loudly, but he was no longer gasping like he had just run a lap around the entire hospital. After a moment, Eddie's hands began to unclench, releasing his grip on the sheets.

"I am _not_ hot," Eddie said deliberately, his voice slowly returning to normal, although he was still grimacing with every breath in and out.

"Are you in pain?" Richie asked in concern.

Eddie only nodded, letting out another shaky breath. "_Nothing_ like what I'm used to," he said around a pained sob. "Thought I was having a heart attack."

"Your pain meds must be wearing off," Richie said, reaching towards the wall behind Eddie's bed. He pressed the button to call for the nurse before returning his hand to its place on Eddie's shoulder. Richie found some odd sort of comfort that just his touch on Eddie's skin seemed to help calm him down. "I can't even begin to imagine what it feels like to be stabbed by a giant fucking space clown."

Once Eddie had woken up, they had started to taper him off of the morphine he'd been on so that he could rest. They'd offered him pain meds by mouth now if he needed them, but Eddie had been refusing them, insisting that the pain wasn't that bad. It looked like that was finally catching up to him.

"Like a bitch," Eddie said around a last, sharp breath of air. When he let it out, it was slower now, and he swallowed audibly. He opened his eyes again, staring intently at Richie.

"And you're wrong," Richie said in response to Eddie's earlier comment. He smiled warmly as he said, "You _are_ hot. You're fucking hot as shit. Always have been. Like I told you, even when you looked like a dork way back when, I thought you were hot."

The grimace still present upon Eddie's face softened slightly, a small smile taking over his features. "You need your goddamned eyes checked."

"My prescription's up-to-date," Richie said matter-of-factly, bringing up a hand to straighten his glasses on his nose. "I'll have you know that these were brand new glasses until It cracked the fuck out of them." He sighed before he added, "I'll have to order a new pair again once I get back to LA. But I can still see you just fine, hot stuff." Richie gave him a lopsided grin.

Eddie's eyebrows, however, knit together in an expression Richie couldn't quite place. Richie assumed that Eddie was feeling a throb of pain, but that wasn't quite it. Before Richie could inquire further, they were interrupted.

"Is everything okay?" Eddie's usual afternoon nurse, James asked, leaning around the doorway into the room.

"He's in a lot of pain," Richie explained. "Can he get something for that?"

James nodded once and said, "Of course," before he once again disappeared back out into the halls.

"And Myra doesn't think I'm hot, so you're wrong too," Eddie continued on. "She tells me all the time how I'd 'look better' if I did my hair differently, or wore different clothes." Eddie rolled his eyes before he added, "She approves of my suits, but that's about it. She gets so mad when I wear my hoodies and windbreakers. Says they're 'trashy'."

Richie tried to suppress the wave of anger that rose up inside him. He was still trying to give Myra the benefit of the doubt, because as he kept reminding himself, he didn't know her, but she fucking took the cake. Literally and figuratively.

"She doesn't know what she had," Richie muttered. "When I saw you in the Jade of the Orient, standing there in your red windbreaker, I about lost my shit."

"You were completely consumed by the fact that Ben lost weight!" Eddie cried, but then he apparently regretted it. The grimace returned to his face and he closed his eyes, his hand going up to the bandages around his abdomen. He sucked in a sharp breath of air through his mouth.

"In through your nose," Richie reminded him, running his hands up and down Eddie's biceps now. Just then, it occurred to Richie for the very first time that Eddie's upper arms really weren't quite as frail as he always seemed to assume they were. There were actually some sharply defined muscles there that Eddie hid under his sweatshirts and jackets. Richie liked them.

After he took a moment to steady his breathing again, Eddie caught Richie staring at him. "What?" he asked.

"I…do you work out?" Richie asked.

"_What_?" Eddie asked again like it was the most absurd question known to man.

"You're _buff_," Richie said in awe, staring down at the biceps under his fingers. Richie was suddenly feeling very self-conscious, regretting the fact that he had put off working out all the damn time. "Do you go to the gym?"

"God, _no_," Eddie replied, finally beginning to sound like his old self before the phone call with Attila the Hun. "Do you have any _idea_ what absolute breeding grounds those places are for _bacteria_?! Holy shit. They're worse than _hospitals_ in many cases! Which is the only reason I'm not freaking the fuck out just by being here. I read a study once where _every single piece_ of equipment they tested in a particular gym was _positive_ for some sort of bacteria. They found staph infections up the ass, rhinovirus, impetigo, and _MRSA_. That's resistant to many types of antibiotics, so do you have any idea what the fuck could happen to you if-?"

"Your ass falls off?" Richie asked. Now that he knew Eddie was going to be okay, Richie would happily listen to his rants for hours on end, but he had more pressing matters on his mind at the moment.

Eddie blinked, pausing mid-rant. "_What_?"

"Because I haven't had the pleasure of seeing what yours feels like yet," Richie pointed out around a pout. "That would suck."

"You're such a jackass," Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes. If Richie wasn't mistaken, he thought he caught the faintest blush of pink rise up in his cheeks, and that almost made Richie crazy all on its own.

"Hey, I was just asking if you worked out or not," Richie said. "I don't need a complete rundown of all the different sorts of bacteria inside a _gym_." Richie planted his elbow on his knee and leaned forward. He propped his chin in his hand and stared at Eddie intently, smiling. "Although you have no fucking idea how much I've missed this over the years. And how terrified I was that I'd never hear your neurotic ramblings ever again."

Eddie pushed gently at Richie's arm, causing Richie to lose his grip on his chin.

"Stop it," Eddie mumbled.

"What?"

"Stop acting like you…_enjoy_ this," Eddie said, vaguely gesturing to himself. "That you enjoy me being a fucking _ball_ of _nervousness_ and _neuroses_, because _I know you don't_!"

"Eds," Richie said quietly, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

"And stop calling me Eds!"

Richie reached out a hand, placing it gently over Eddie's cheek. He waited for Eddie's eyes to meet his before he said, "_I love you_. I…do you know what those words _mean_? No, I don't _enjoy_ the fact that you have issues. That isn't the right word, but…this is who you are and _I love you_. _All of you_. And _yes_, that includes _all_ of your hypochondria, and anxiety, and panic attacks, and…_everything_. You wouldn't _be_ _you_ without those things. And believe me, when I thought Pennywise had killed you…it felt like a piece of _me_ had fucking died. I couldn't bear the thought of going forward and never hearing those things from you ever again."

The angry expression that had been present upon Eddie's face immediately softened. His eyebrows went up, his mouth pulling down into a frown, his eyes large and round. He brought a hand up to his cheek, placing it atop Richie's and pressing his face into it.

"Oh, Rich," Eddie sighed. He opened his mouth to add something else, but just then, Eddie's nurse returned to the room.

He was holding a small, white paper cup. He crossed the room and held it out for Eddie. "There's water-" James said as Eddie took the cup.

"Don't need it," Eddie cut him off. He held the cup to his mouth and tilted it back, quickly swallowing the pills down and handing the cup back over to James. "Thanks."

"Sure," James said. "Let us know if you need anything else."

Once James had left the room again, Eddie said, "And to answer your question, I work out from the comfort of my own home, where each piece of workout equipment can be sanitized both before _and_ after I use it."

"Of course you do," Richie said, but his voice was fond, affectionate. He could just imagine Eddie with fucking wet wipes up the ass, poking into every single crevice of his home gym, making sure that the staph infections were kept sufficiently at bay. "Do you lift weights?" he asked next, suddenly hungry for the mental images of Eddie hot and sweaty while exercising. "What kinds of equipment do you have?"

"I do lift weights," Eddie replied, "and I have a treadmill. Which you could probably do with one yourself." He reached out to press a finger to Richie's stomach. "We're forty years old. That shit is going to start catching up with you."

Richie was suddenly too distracted by the fact that Eddie _exercised_ to worry about himself being out of shape. "And you _run_? On your treadmill?"

"One mile every morning," Eddie told him. "It gets me going for the day. Then at night, I do yoga to help me relax. Although it doesn't always work, especially when I have to get into bed with _Myra_ afterwards and she starts bitching about stuff." He rolled his eyes, but then he snorted. "And then she wonders why I found comfort in a crass comedian on the internet. Because your stupid jokes were leaps and bounds better than listening to her."

Richie found himself smiling smugly. "But, _Jesus_. All that yoga – that means you're really flexible and shit, right?"

"I _was_," Eddie said pointedly, his eyes drifting down to the bandages around his abdomen. "I don't know if that'll still be true after this."

"Hey," Richie said, letting one of his hands drift down gently to Eddie's chest. He settled his hand overtop the bandages ever so slightly, reminding himself that Eddie was in pain. "You have a lot of healing to do, but you'll get there. I'll help you."

"Rich," Eddie said, but he broke off, his gaze going to the windows. "I don't…" He stopped again, let out a harsh sigh, then turned back to Richie. "Listen, I helped take care of my mother when she was _dying_. It fucking sucks, okay? It's a lot of hard, thankless work, but…she was my mom. As fucking complicated as it was, I still loved her and I wanted to help her. But…you don't…you don't _owe_ me _anything_-"

Richie silenced him with a finger to Eddie's lips. "I told you, I _love_ you," Richie said firmly. "It isn't about _owing_ you anything or feeling obligated to _do_ anything for you. You're the _love of my life_. You're only fucking person I've ever loved this deeply, and I _want_ to help you. Okay? Will you _please_ let me do that?"

"But I'm stupid, and anxious, and I have a fucking woman I wished I wasn't married to, and it's such a fucking mess," Eddie said in a rush, getting visibly worked up again. "You don't need to deal with this shit."

Richie leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie's forehead. "And I love your stupid anxious ass," he said when he straightened up. "I don't just love you when you're calm, you know. And I told you, we're going to work all of this out – _together_."

"Even my stupid wife?" Eddie asked skeptically. "And don't even hand me some bullshit about wanting to fuck her."

"Even your stupid wife," Richie replied around a smile. Stupid was good word for her, but he was glad that Eddie had said it first.

"But you're kind of famous," Eddie finally voiced his fears, biting at his bottom lip. "What if she somehow finds out about you and causes problems for your career?" Eddie glanced up at Richie, his eyes large and round. "Maybe that's what I'm most concerned about. You've worked hard to get where you are-"

"No, I haven't," Richie interjected around a snort.

"I'm worried," Eddie continued on as if Richie hadn't spoken, "that you'll decide that this isn't worth the hassle." Eddie gestured between them and added, "You'll realize that this isn't worth risking your career over, and you'll leave me behind once and for all to-"

"_Eds_," Richie cut him off. "I'm _never_ going to leave you behind _ever_ again. I mean, I feel kind of lucky to have remembered you again at all. To have remembered all of the _feelings_ I've ever had for you." Richie balled up one of his hands into a fist and pressed it against his chest. "How many people get that lucky?"

"Lucky to have a decades-spanning battle with a goddamned space clown that forces them to return to their hometown and confront their deepest, darkest fears?"

"Well, yeah," Richie said quickly. "Not that part so much, but…how many people lose their childhood love, but then get a fucking _second chance_ at it? Not to mention, the fact that you love me back and we have a chance to be _together_-" Richie stopped, blinking around the tears that were stinging at his eyes again. He pressed his quivering lips together, taking a moment to try and reign in his emotions before he continued. "I never even could have imagined that shit would work out this way." Just then, something occurred to Richie and he asked, "If Pennywise was still alive, would that mean we'd have to invite him to our wedding?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Rich," Eddie cried, smacking him lightly on the arm. "Just when you're making me think that you're capable of having a serious conversation, you fucking go and ruin it. And no, we wouldn't be obligated to invite Pennywise to our _wedding_." He rolled his eyes. "That would be like having to invite Bowers too, because he was the reason we became friends in the first place."

Richie sat blinking dumbly at Eddie. "Wait, what?"

"Richie," Eddie said, staring at him earnestly. "Please tell me you remember how we became friends."

Richie stared at Eddie some more, the memory that Eddie was talking about just a giant black hole in his mind. Richie thought he had remembered everything – or least everything of _importance_ – by now. But no. There were still so many precious things that were gone, lost to the curse that Pennywise had placed upon them.

* * *

_Eddie was just a boy in his first grade class. Richie didn't know all that much about him, other than the fact that he often used his inhaler and was called to the office at regular times throughout the day to take medications. Richie had never really spoken to him, other than when they were put into groups to do those stupid activities for class._

_That all changed one day in early October when Eddie's friend, Bill was home with the flu. Eddie and Bill usually walked to and from school together. It was the only reason Sonia Kaspbrak let Eddie leave the house without her – when she knew that he was with 'that nice boy, Bill'. In hindsight, Richie knew that Sonia was unaware that Bill was out sick that day, otherwise, she never would have let her vulnerable son out of her sight._

_Normally, Eddie and Bill would stick together during lunch and on the playground. Richie never saw one without the other, and this was the very first time Richie had seen Eddie by himself. On that particular day, Eddie ate lunch alone, speaking to no one, and then walked out to the playground by himself. Eddie sat on a bench at the rear of the playground, watching a group of kids play kickball together._

_It was the first time Richie ever really took notice of Eddie – of how little, and lonely, and longing he appeared. Eddie kept his eyes glued to the kickball, almost looking like he wanted to ask to join in the game, but he didn't move from his seat. He fumbled in the fanny pack that his mother made him wear, repeatedly pulling out his inhaler during the thirty minutes they were allotted for recess. Richie would find out later that Eddie was on the verge of having a panic attack, feeling absolutely naked without his friend, Bill there with him._

_Richie balanced himself on the monkey bars, not quite sure why he was watching Eddie so closely. Perhaps he knew Eddie would need him at some point during that recess. Perhaps he could already sense the fact that their fates would intertwine them so tightly and closely together, they'd never be completely whole without the other. Maybe he just felt bad for the apparently fragile little boy who looked so lost and alone._

_Richie was considering going over to him, asking if he could join him on the bench. Richie wasn't sure what he'd say to him – to this boy he barely knew – but he wanted to keep him company nonetheless. But then that decision was taken out of his hands completely._

_Lost in his thoughts, Richie didn't even see Henry Bowers appear behind Eddie, placing his hands on the back of the bench, and leaning forward to speak in Eddie's ear. But Richie did hear the words that Henry said, loud and clear, even across the playground and over the screams of joy and laughter of the other children._

_"__How many times have you _used_ that thing today, Kaspbrak?" Bowers asked, reaching his hand to grab Eddie's inhaler from him._

_Richie heard Eddie gasp and jump, trying fruitlessly to take his inhaler back. The older and taller Henry kept it easily out of his grip, even when Eddie stood up and started jumping up and down to try and reach it._

_Richie sat up straighter from his perch on the monkey bars, looking around for a teacher to step in, but there were no adults on the playground. Unbelievable. Weren't the teachers supposed to keep a watch on them at all times? Again, Richie would realize much later on that things like that were to be expected in Derry._

_"__Give that…back," Eddie said in between gasps for air, standing on his tiptoes and stretching his fingers out for his inhaler which was well beyond his reach._

_"__Fuck," Richie muttered, quickly climbing down from the monkey bars._

_He didn't even know what had come over him, because normally, Richie would look the other way when Bowers picked on the other kids. As long as it was someone else, that meant Richie was getting a reprieve. Unless it was one of his friends, of course, but Richie certainly wouldn't consider Eddie a friend. Just a boy in his class. But seeing Bowers play keep-away with Eddie lit something inside Richie's chest, a feeling that he wouldn't even be able to put a name to for quite a while yet._

_Bowers was so absorbed in keeping Eddie's inhaler away from him, he didn't even notice Richie come up behind him._

_"__Leave him alone," Richie said, shoving Bowers firmly in the back._

_This caused Henry to stumble, and Richie was easily able to grab Eddie's inhaler out of the older boy's grasp._

_"__He has asthma, fucker," Richie snapped, wrenching the inhaler from Henry's fingers. "Are you so fucking bored that you have to steal medication from a _first grader_?"_

_Richie held the inhaler out for Eddie, who grabbed it back. It looked like Eddie wanted to say something, but he couldn't quite get the words out. He gave Richie a grateful look before he placed the inhaler to his lips again, taking several deep breaths._

_"__What's it to you, Four Eyes?" Henry asked, his glare suddenly going to Richie, shoving him hard in the chest._

_Richie stumbled backwards, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. Clenching his hands into fists, Richie ran forward, barreling all of his weight into Henry. This caused Bowers to fall backwards, taking Richie with him. Henry grunted as his back and head came into contact with the cement, and Richie could feel the concrete cutting his knees open, but he didn't care._

_"__Just leave him alone," Richie yelled, shoving his hands into Bowers chest again. "It's not his fault he needs medication."_

_Behind him, Richie was only vaguely aware of Eddie gasping even louder, using his inhaler repeatedly. Off to his right, the kids playing kickball had stopped their game to turn and watch, the ball rolling across the playground, forgotten._

_"__Fight!" some of the kids yelled, pointing to where Richie and Henry were now rolling around on the ground._

_Henry had kicked Richie off of him, and Richie rolled over onto his back, no match for the much older boy. Henry was on top of Richie now, kneeing him in the groin and turning Richie's face to shove it into the cement underneath him._

_"__You've been asking for it, Tozier!" Henry screamed, leaning forward into Richie's face, his saliva flying onto Richie's cheek._

_Richie grimaced, against the pressure on his groin, the moisture on his face, and the hard concrete pressing into his other cheek. He tried to get his arms in between himself and Bowers, but even then, it was no use – Bowers was much too big and heavy on top of him._

_"__Oh, fuck," Eddie muttered quietly, sounding panicked and like his inhaler wasn't working at all. "Shit."_

_A couple of the other kids on the playground must have run off to get a teacher, because out of the corner of his eye, Richie could see Miss Douglas, the fourth grade teacher hurrying towards them._

_"__Henry Bowers!" Miss Douglas yelled. She raised her finger and pointed at them before she screamed, "Get off that boy and report to the principal's office immediately!"_

_Finally, Henry stopped pressing Richie's face into the cement, halted his knee before it jammed into Richie's groin again. Henry straightened, looking up and across the playground at Miss Douglas closing in on them._

_It was Richie's turn to gasp for air, watching as Henry released his hold on Richie and scurried up off of him. Henry's jaw was clenching as he watched Miss Douglas approach, then Henry's eyes flashed back to Richie once more._

_Henry raised a finger at Richie and said, "Now you're really going to get it, so you better look behind you when you go home. Fucker." Henry placed a swift kick to Richie's side before he took off._

_Richie groaned, although it was nothing compared to the pain that had been exploding in his groin just moments before. Richie could hear Miss Douglas yelling at Henry again for that kick, but Bowers was gone, running across the playground and up the steps into the school._

_Richie slowly sat up, wiping at his face where it had been pressed into the ground, brushing little pieces of gravel from his skin. He looked up at Eddie, who had retreated into the corner of the playground, holding his inhaler in both hands close to his chest. He was watching Richie with large and scared eyes._

_"__Stupid Bowers," Richie said indignantly, and he would have used some stronger words if it weren't for the fact that Miss Douglas had almost reached him._

_"__Are you okay?" Miss Douglas asked, bending over to wrap a hand around Richie's upper arm. "Do you need to go to the nurse?"_

_"__No, I'm fine," Richie said, running his hands through his hair as he stood up. He bent over, brushing off gravel from his shorts and assessing the damage done to his knees. They were a little bloody where the cement had scratched them, but not even close to what he'd done to himself the time he'd flown headfirst over the handlebars of his bike. "I'm fine."_

_"__B-Bowers stole my inhaler," Eddie spoke up for the first time, apart from the lone swear swords he had uttered just moments before. "Richie got it back for me and Bowers…starting hitting him." Richie could see him swallowing several times, diverting his gaze to the ground._

_It only vaguely occurred to Richie that he might also be sent to the principal for fighting. Richie was still too concerned about Eddie to worry about such things, but with a few well-placed words, Eddie made sure that Richie wouldn't share a similar fate. Richie could feel the very corner of his lips curling up into a smile, staring at Eddie and making sure he knew that Richie appreciated it._

_"__And are you okay?" Miss Douglas asked next, making her way over to Eddie. She placed a hand on his back, seemingly monitoring his breathing._

_"__Yes, ma'am," Eddie said. He nodded vigorously before pressing his inhaler to his lips again, taking several deep breaths._

_"__Perhaps we should get you both to the nurse, just in case," Miss Douglas said. She placed her other hand on Richie's shoulders, guiding them both back to the school. "You two can at least sit down and collect yourselves for a while."_

_Richie and Eddie had sat quietly in the nurse's office throughout the next period. The nurse had cleaned Richie's knees with cotton balls and antiseptic before hovering over Eddie for quite some time, asking if his mother should be called. It took Eddie at least five minutes to convince the nurse that he was fine, and that there was absolutely no reason for his mother to become involved._

_It was only when the nurse left them alone, sitting side by side on the nurse's couch, that Eddie seemed to take notice of Richie._

_"__Thanks," Eddie said, glancing at Richie, but then away again._

_"__Don't mention it," Richie reassured him. He almost felt the urge to reach out and lay a comforting hand on Eddie's shoulder, but he didn't. "Fucker shouldn't have stolen your inhaler."_

_A small smile flitted across Eddie's lips, the first smile Richie had seen on his lips during this entire ordeal. "Bowers is really going to be out for your blood now though," Eddie said regretfully._

_Richie waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. You heard what he said – I've been asking for it for a while apparently." Richie shrugged. "Just now, he'll _really_ want to punch my face in. No biggie."_

_Eddie's smile grew, but he kept staring down at the inhaler in his hands, refusing to meet Richie's eyes._

_As soon as school was over that day, Richie quickly caught up to Eddie in the hall before he got anywhere near the doors. Richie wasn't even that concerned Bowers would find him and beat him up, but Richie couldn't bear the thought of Eddie walking home alone, constantly looking over his shoulder._

_"__Can I walk you home?" Richie asked tentatively, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders._

_Eddie started, jumping at Richie's voice next to him. "Er…" Eddie began, stumbling over his words. He shook his head, looking like he was on the verge of refusing Richie's help._

_"__Please?" Richie said. "I'd feel better knowing you got home safe."_

_"__So would my mother," Eddie muttered, staring down at his shoes as they weaved in and out of the groups of kids in the hall. "I guess so," he finally agreed, smiling up at Richie._

_And even after Bill had returned to school the following day, Richie now joined them on the walks to and from school. Between Richie and Bill, never again would Eddie have to walk alone._

* * *

"Holy shit," Richie said, blinking unbelievably at the fact that he had completely forgotten why he had started hanging out with Eddie in the first place.

"You took a knee in the groin from Bowers for me," Eddie said warmly.

"_See_?" Richie asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Even then, before I fucking knew you, I wanted to help you." Richie shook his head before he added, "It has absolutely nothing to do with feeling _obligated_, but just…_helping_ you when you need it. And that feeling's a lot stronger than it was back then we were just acquaintances. So will you fucking let me? _Please_ let me help you."

Eddie closed his eyes against Richie's words, shaking his own head. "Rich-"

"If I can't convince you," Richie interrupted, suddenly remembering the letter in his pocket, "then maybe Stan can." He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the folded and crumpled letter.

Eddie lifted his head gently above his pillow. "Stan?"

Richie carefully unfolded the letter and held it out for Eddie. "I guess Stan made a copy for each of us before…" Richie began to explain, but then he halted his words, not needing to go on. "This is the copy Mike got."

Richie sat silently as Eddie took the paper from him, reading through it. The frown lines between Eddie's eyebrows formed as he made his way through the letter, the corners of his mouth pulling down at the corners. If Richie wasn't mistaken, he thought he could also see the very faint shimmer of tears in Eddie's deep brown eyes.

Once he had gotten to the end of the letter, Richie could see Eddie swallowing, could see his eyes going up and over previous parts of the letter.

"'Be who you want to be,'" Eddie said, breaking the silence that had settled into the room. His eyes went up to Richie before he added, "'Be proud. And if you find someone worth holding onto, never, ever let them go.'"

"Yeah," Richie whispered, feeling his eyes burn again. "That was the part that got me too." Richie laughed quietly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "So much so that I ended up coming out to Ben."

Eddie blinked at him like he wasn't quite sure what he was hearing. "Wait, what?"

"I wasn't planning on it!" Richie cried, waving his arms around for emphasis. "I read the letter and then Ben sat me down in the waiting room, just the two of us. He made sure I knew that nothing I could ever tell him would change how he felt about me. He already knew, he just wanted me to feel safe enough to tell him. I sat there for I don't know how long, debating with myself, but…in the end, I told him. I told him I'm gay." Richie knew those last words weren't necessary, but now that he had started to say them, he kept getting the urge to repeat them – at least where it was safe to do so.

Eddie reached out for one of Richie's hands, entwining their fingers together. "And?" Eddie asked.

"And he didn't care," Richie replied, smiling, his mind going to that moment in the waiting room where he sat in Ben's arms, feeling safe and accepted. "You were right."

"I told you."

"But he was the only one and that was all I told him," Richie said hurriedly, shaking his head. "I didn't tell him about you, or us, or-"

"And you don't need to," Eddie cut him off, rubbing his thumb over the back of Richie's hand. "I understand what a big step that was, even if Ben made it safe for you to do so. It's fucking scary and daunting as hell, and it'll happen if and when you feel ready."

Richie nodded at Eddie's words, taking a moment to run a hand through his hair. "I know. But…that really isn't why I wanted you to read Stan's letter."

Eddie's eyes went back to the paper in between his fingers, reading through various parts of it again.

"'If you find someone worth holding onto,'" Richie repeated firmly, "'never, ever let them go.'"

"Do…do you think Stan knew about us?"

"I don't know," Richie answered, shrugging his shoulders. "I've asked myself that about a million times already. I mean…you did suspect that at least a couple of the Losers did. Perhaps Stan and I'm guessing that Ben might too, even though we didn't talk about that yet."

"Look at Ben and Beverly," Eddie said thoughtfully, pressing himself back into his pillow and taking a deep breath. It appeared as if his painkillers had started to kick in. "Is anyone really surprised that they've had feelings for each other since forever too?"

Richie shook his head, but then asked, "Do you see though? Eddie, to me, you're that person _worth holding onto_." He bit at his lower lip, shaking his head even more furiously. "I let you go once – I lost over twenty fucking _years_ with you – and I'm not going to let that happen again. Not when I was lucky enough to find you, to _remember_ you again. So you're going to have an angry ex-wife on your heels and I might have to do some damage control with my career if it comes to that." Richie shrugged nonchalantly. "Who the fuck cares? The only thing I really care about is you and…_us_. That's all I really want is _us_." Richie tightened his grip around Eddie's hand, resting his other hand over top of it and squeezing tightly. "To me, that includes taking care of you when you need it, because that's what you do for the people you love." Richie paused for a moment before he added, "I mean, you already made it safe for me to come out to you, and you're talking me through coming out to the rest of the world. So I know if our roles were reversed, you'd want to do the same for me."

Eddie's eyes went to their hands, clasped tightly together. When he looked back up at Richie, he said, "Yeah, I would. Without question."

"And would you judge me if I had a scar across my chest to show for it?"

Eddie's eyes dropped again, trailing back over the bandages over his abdomen. Wordlessly, Eddie shook his head.

"Then _please_ let me do this," Richie pleaded, his voice beginning to crack with emotion. With how fucking much he loved Eddie and how desperately he just wanted to help him. "God, this is _all_ I've ever wanted. _You_ are all I've ever wanted, and I'm going to hold onto you until you tell me to fuck off once and for all."

Eddie smiled, but then his expression drastically changed. He blinked a tear from his eye, his lips beginning to tremble. "Never, Rich. I never want you to fuck off. I just…I just want you too."

Richie leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Eddie's. "And you've got me," he said before he pressed a kiss to Eddie's quivering lips. "I promise."

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: Super excited for the next chapter. It will jump forward in time a little bit, focusing on Eddie getting out of the hospital and he and the rest of the Losers starting to get back to their normal lives. That includes more drama and more interactions with the rest of the Losers going forward!_


	9. Chapter 9: Scars

**Brave  
**Chapter 9 – Scars

"I don't need a fucking wheelchair!" Eddie snapped indignantly. "I'm not a goddamned invalid!"

Richie tried not to smile, but he couldn't help it; he still didn't think he'd tire of hearing Eddie complain about dumb shit, like the fact that the hospital staff wanted to make sure he got safely to the car. God forbid.

"You heard the man," Richie told James, Eddie's nurse. When James looked like he was about to protest, Richie said, "I'm walking him to the car. I'll make sure he doesn't fall on his cute little ass."

James had already caught Richie and Eddie making out more than a few times and he hadn't batted an eye, so Richie knew it was a lost cause to try and hide their relationship from him. Richie had been on pins and needles for nearly a week afterwards though, terrified that it might show up somewhere on social media, but no. James gave zero fucks if he was gay or making out with Eddie at every opportunity, so fuck it. Richie had spent enough time hiding who he was, even from himself, and it was nice to finally be able to flaunt it in what he knew was a safe place for him to do so.

Eddie, on the other hand, was currently turning quite a fetching shade of red.

"Richie, I swear to fucking god," Eddie muttered, keeping his head down as he made sure that everything was packed into the bag that Richie had brought him from the inn. "Are you going to be like this once we come out to _everyone_?"

"Yeah?" Richie asked, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Like I'd miss out on the chance to let the whole world know you're mine." He stepped over to Eddie, zipping up his bag for him and slinging it over his shoulder. "You _have_ everything, trust me."

"Tell that to Myra," Eddie said, glancing around his hospital room one last time for anything else he might have missed. "She still thinks I'm going through a phase and I'll come to my senses once I come home." He snorted.

"Hate to break it to you, honey bunch," Richie said, straightening Eddie's bag on his shoulder, "thirty years is not a fucking phase."

"Doesn't look like a phase to me either," James said, winking at them fondly. He was still gripping the handles of the wheelchair he had brought into the room, leaning casually onto it. "And believe me, I've seen more than my fair share of couples making out. You're hardly the first or the last."

"See, even Jamie thinks we're going to make it," Richie said. "Hit me up on social media, dude, so I can invite you to the wedding."

"Jesus Christ, Rich," Eddie said around an exasperated breath. "Let's go." He pushed past James unceremoniously, moving awfully fucking fast for a man who still had a healing wound in the middle of his chest.

They had left the surface wound open for a few weeks after his initial injury, because as the doctors had explained, penetrating stab wounds needed to heal from the inside out. Eddie still wouldn't let Richie see it, and he made Richie leave the room whenever the doctors came in to change the bandages. Richie was sort of glad, because he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to see a gaping wound in the middle of Eddie's chest, full of blood, and puss, and soaked-through gauze. Now that the wound had been entirely closed up, however, Richie hoped that Eddie wouldn't feel the need to hide it from him any longer. Eddie still had to clean the stitches and change his bandages regularly, and now that he was being released from the hospital, Richie wasn't entirely sure that Eddie would be able to do those things entirely on his own.

But Richie trusted that Eddie would ask for his help if he needed it.

Richie made his way for the door of the room, stopping when he reached it and turning back towards James. "I meant what I said," Richie told him. "Message me on Twitter, okay? I'll set you up with tickets to a show if you're ever out west."

"Thanks, man," James said, smiling. "I will."

"Thank _you_," Richie said firmly. "Not just for putting up with Eddie's ass, because I know he can brush people the wrong way, but…for everything." Richie fiddled with the strap of Eddie's bag, feeling the brief urge to elaborate on what _everything_ entailed, but he knew he didn't need to; James understood.

James shrugged nonchalantly. "Just doing my job."

Richie shook his head and closed his eyes, because Jesus, he never imagined that people would make coming out so easy. He was only out to three people now, and Richie knew they wouldn't all be like this, he didn't think he'd ever stopped being shocked when people _didn't care_. James had been the true test, because he was the first stranger that knew Richie's dirty little secret, and James acted like it was fucking _normal_. Like he got moderately famous people coming through the hospital every day with surprises like the fact that they were gay and had been hopelessly in love with their best friend for nearly three decades. James could have easily outed him in a number of ways, and he could have had a field day deciding what to do with that information. And…he didn't.

"Your job description doesn't include all of that, and you and I both know it," Richie said, staring unblinkingly at James.

"It's not anything you need to thank me for," James replied insistently. "It's not anything you should feel the need to thank _anyone_ for."

"Richie!" came Eddie's voice from down the hall. "The fuck are you?! I don't know about you, but I've spent enough time here, and you're supposed to be making sure I don't fall on my ass on the way out!"

James snorted and Richie was overcome with the urge to run out into the hall and hug the shit out of his impatient little Eddie. But Richie stayed and told James, "He's going to get that cute ass of his thrown out of here in about two seconds, but…still. I wanted you to know that I appreciate your discretion."

"You do you, man," James said. "That's always been my philosophy, and it's no one else's business but yours. Just know that I'll be rooting for you two from the sidelines. You guys deserve it."

Richie didn't say anything more. He simply clapped an appreciative hand on James's shoulder on the way out.

* * *

Richie took Eddie to McDonald's for a late lunch, and Richie supposed it was their first official date together, all things considered. Eddie didn't normally eat at fast food places, and honestly, neither did Richie, but after nothing but hospital food for nearly a month, Eddie said he had been craving a Big Mac.

Not to mention the fact that Eddie was still healing, and Richie wanted to get him back to the inn as soon as possible so that he could rest. Eddie was alternately either in pain or a bit loopy on painkillers, so he wasn't exactly up for exciting outings just yet. Once he was a little further along in his recovery, Richie would worry about taking Eddie to fancy restaurants and shit.

Once they got back to the townhouse, Richie helped Eddie up the stairs to the second floor. Eddie immediately headed for his door, the first one on the right, but Richie steered him away.

"I paid up on your room and closed your reservation, remember?" Richie asked. Eddie was leaning heavily into him, taking measured breaths with each step they took. "Didn't think you'd want to pay weeks' worth of rent on a room you weren't even using."

"Oh," Eddie murmured, shaking his head and letting Richie guide him farther down the hall. "Yeah, forgot. Thanks."

"You can stay in my room," Richie said, stopping at the next door on the right. He reached into his pocket with his free hand, fishing out his room key. Richie unlocked the door and tried to step inside, but Eddie didn't budge.

"Rich?"

"What?"

"Where…where are you going to stay?" Eddie asked stiltedly. "Are…are we bunking up together, or…?" He broke off, his cheeks flaring up into that shade of pink that Richie loved so much.

"I could get another room," Richie said. "Bill's gone, so his room's free. And Ben and Bev are bunking together now, so Bev's room is free now too. And let's face it, this place isn't exactly flooded with reservations. I think the five of us staying here was the first time in history this place has ever been full."

It was the weirdest thing ever, how much their group dynamics had changed in the span of a fucking month. Ben and Bev were inseparable, and everyone fucking knew they were desperately in love. On the other hand, Richie and Eddie were also attached at the hip, which wasn't anything new, but no one knew just how much their relationship had changed.

Or maybe they did, and they just hadn't said anything. That seemed to be what Eddie thought.

And Mike was just waiting to get the hell out of Derry once all the other Losers were gone too. He said he didn't quite feel right leaving while Eddie was still there and healing. Once Eddie was clear to travel, then Mike said it would be time to close up shop.

"Rich," Eddie said again, still not moving from his spot in the hall.

"What's up, man?"

"I don't…you can stay with me, you know," Eddie whispered, keeping his gaze down on the carpet. "I don't…I don't want you to get another room."

"There's only one bed," Richie pointed out. He shook his head before he said, "I was afraid of coming on too strong, you know? I know this is new to both of us and-"

"It's only sharing a bed, Rich," Eddie cut him off, smirking. "Sorry, but I'm not exactly in shape to be fucking right now."

What the fuck was happening? It felt like all of the blood rushed out of Richie's head, because _he_ was supposed to be the one who said inappropriate shit and made Eddie get embarrassed. Not the other way around.

Richie could see Eddie swallowing, as if he had only just realized what he had said. "Please?" Eddie asked, his eyes going up to Richie. "I don't want to be alone. Not here."

"Yeah," Richie said, feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of him. "Of course. I was just afraid of freaking you out by proposing we share a bed already. I didn't want to be presumptuous."

"No," Eddie murmured, wrapping his fingers into the sleeve of Richie's sweatshirt. "I just…want to be close to you. Is that okay? Just…sleeping? Cause it's going to be a while before-"

"God, yeah," Richie interrupted him, leaning down and kissing Eddie's forehead. "Believe me, thirteen-year-old me is absolutely freaking the fuck out at sharing the same mattress with you. Absolutely no expectations, and if that's all we ever do, I will die a happy man."

Eddie smiled, leaning into Richie again and letting him lead the way into the room. Richie closed the door behind them and set the bag down on the bed before he turned to face Eddie.

"Do…do we need to change your bandages?" Richie asked.

"_I_ need to change them, yeah," Eddie said, gently pushing past Richie to start gathering his supplies from his bag. "Cause I think I'd like to take a nap and they really need changed if I'm planning on laying down for a long period of time."

"Then I'll help you."

"It's fine," Eddie said, juggling different plastic bags and bottles in his hands. "I can do it. They showed me how at the hospital."

"Eds…"

Without another word, Eddie slowly made his way around Richie, closing the door once he was safely in the bathroom alone.

Richie sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. He couldn't quite stand the thought of Eddie twisting himself around into uncomfortable positions, trying to reach a fucking scar on his _back_ that he couldn't even _see_. Wouldn't that pull at Eddie's stitches in unsafe ways? Richie wasn't keen on rushing Eddie back to the hospital right after he'd been released, but he had to remind himself that Eddie had been doing nothing but this kind of shit since he was young enough to understand it.

Richie picked Eddie's bag up off the bed and took it over to the dresser on the other side of the room beneath the window. Richie set the bag on top of the dresser and opened the zipper, beginning to unpack the few shirts and pants that Eddie had had at the hospital. But the bathroom door opened, and Richie knew Eddie couldn't have changed his bandages that fucking quickly.

When Richie turned around, Eddie was standing in the doorway, his arms wrapped around his middle.

"I can't…" Eddie began, but then he stopped. He stared down at Richie's shoes like there was something terribly interesting in them. "This is so horribly embarrassing, but…I can't do it myself," he finally admitted, glancing back up at Richie again, his eyes large and wide. His chest was heaving, like it took every single ounce of his courage to be able to admit that. "I couldn't even get my shirt off without feeling like my stitches were going to pop out."

"Eddie…" Richie said, shaking his head. He crossed the room towards Eddie, placing his hands firmly on the other man's shoulders. "I told you, I'll help you. God, please don't ever feel bad about asking. Okay?" He wrapped his arms around Eddie's shoulders next, pulling him close.

"I just…I didn't want you to have to see it," Eddie whispered, his voice muffled even more by the material of Richie's sweatshirt. His voice was embarrassed, shamed.

Richie brought one of his hands up to Eddie's head, tucking it under his chin. "We're going to do this though, aren't we? Be together?"

"Of course we are." Eddie's tone was confused, questioning.

"Then I'll see it at some point, won't I?" Richie asked. "I mean, you're not going to hide it from me for the rest of your life."

"I don't know!" Eddie cried, pulling out of Richie's grasp. He wrapped his arms around his middle again, like he was trying to further hide his scar, even though he still had his t-shirt on. He walked around Richie, walking towards the bed.

Richie turned and said, "Eddie…" but he stopped again. He had absolutely no idea how to convince Eddie that a stupid fucking scar wouldn't change how he felt about him. Eddie looked so small and vulnerable standing there, and Richie wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms until everything was better. But Richie knew that that wouldn't help matters, and that Eddie would simply push him away again, so he tried something else entirely.

"Have I ever lied to you before?" Richie asked.

Eddie turned his head slightly until he could see Richie out of the corner of his eye. "Are you serious right now? You're so full of shit, where do I fucking start? How about when you told me when you were married? What about all the times you talked about fucking my mother? Not to mention-"

"I'm not talking about stupid fucking jokes!" Richie cutting him off a bit more harshly than he intended. When Eddie flinched away slightly, Richie sighed, taking a few steps closer. He still didn't reach out for Eddie, even though he was now close enough to do so. "Have I ever lied to you when it's _important_?" he asked softly.

Eddie didn't answer right away, but then he shook his head. He stared down at the bed in front of him. "That's one of the reasons why it was so easy for me to fall in love with you in the first place," Eddie eventually replied. "Because I knew you wouldn't feed me a bunch of bullshit like my mother always did. Like my wife tries to. You've always been straight with me." When Eddie realized what he had said, he grimaced. "Well, not exactly straight-"

"No," Richie agreed, "nothing about me has ever been even remotely straight. But have I always been honest with you when it matters?"

Eddie smiled. "Yeah."

Richie took a chance, finally laying his hands on Eddie's shoulders. When Eddie didn't shrug them off, Richie said, "Then trust me when I tell you that nothing about this is going to change how I feel about you." Richie let his hands drift down, lightly glancing over Eddie's back, feeling the outline of the bandages beneath his shirt. He swallowed hard before he said, "You have no idea how fucking scared I was when I thought I lost you. I was terrified that I'd never have a chance to…_do_ anything like this for you."

Turning his head again, Eddie watched Richie closely out of the corner of his eye. He bit at his lower lip before he said, "You wanted to clean the gruesome fucking scar I got from a space clown?"

"It's not gruesome," Richie said, still lightly running his fingers along the back of Eddie's shirt.

"You haven't even seen it yet."

"_Nothing_ about you will ever be gruesome to me," Richie said firmly. "And to answer your question, I wanted to…do couply shit with you. Not cleaning your scar, although that's definitely included, but just…being with you. Getting a chance to do…_normal_ things with you and for you. And yes, that includes taking care of each other when one of us is sick or hurt. That's what couples do for each other. Or at least they should."

"I don't…" Eddie began, but then he trailed off. He hung his head again, and Richie could see him frowning deeply, battling with himself.

Jesus, but Richie just wanted to grab him in his arms and hug him until everything was better, but he knew it would never be that easy. So he waited. Waited for Eddie to open up to him. Waited for Eddie to talk this out with him. He would wait for Eddie forever.

"I'm not used to this, Rich," Eddie finally spat out, his voice only quivering slightly. "I mean, yeah, I'm used to being coddled, but not…" He broke off again, running a frustrated hand over his face. "I told you, if Myra was here right now, she'd be giving me hell for getting myself into this position in the first place. She certainly wouldn't be offering to fucking help me clean the scar I got, because I did something she would have been against in the first place. Just like the way she yelled at me for crashing my car when she didn't even want me driving that day." Eddie turning around, facing Richie with wide eyes. "I'm not used to someone helping me pick up the pieces after I fuck up."

Richie raised an eyebrow. "So saving my life was a fuck up?"

"N-no!" Eddie sputtered. "You're the only reason I'm even able to function right now-!"

Richie pressed a finger to Eddie's lips, silencing him. Richie smiled before he said, "I know. But…will you let me help you pick up the pieces for once? I just…I just want to help you. I love you so much and I don't want you to have to do this by yourself. Will you please let me help you?"

Richie was only vaguely aware of how pleading his voice was, but then something changed. Eddie blinked and all at once, the resolve on his face was gone. He leaned forward, pressing his head into Richie's shoulder and nodding.

"I _need_ help," Eddie said, his voice cracking. "That's why I came to get you, but I'm just terrified of what you'll think when you see it."

Bringing his hands up to Eddie's back, Richie's ran them carefully over the material of his t-shirt. He could feel Eddie quivering underneath his fingers with pent up fear and emotion. "You don't need to be afraid, okay?" Richie asked gently. "Because I know that _nothing_ will ever change how I feel about you. And I'm just asking you to trust me."

"I do," Eddie said around a gasp for air. "You're the person I trust most in this world and I wouldn't want anyone else to do this for me. You know, except for a bunch of doctors that I know nothing about."

Richie smiled and bowed his head, pressing a kiss to Eddie's shoulder where his t-shirt had exposed a bit of skin. "Will you let me?" Richie asked quietly again, his lips still against Eddie's skin.

Eddie drew a long and shaking breath, but then he nodded, head still buried in Richie's shoulder.

Richie let one of his hands drop and then he turned slightly, directing Eddie towards the bathroom. Eddie went, but Richie didn't miss the way his eyes stayed on the floor. The way Eddie's cheeks burned red from embarrassment, but now for a completely different reason entirely.

When they got to the bathroom, Eddie sank down on the closed toilet seat. He still kept his head bowed and his eyes were closed now, careful not to look in Richie's direction. Richie felt the urge to place his hand on Eddie's chin, to try and get Eddie to look at him, but he didn't. He would let Eddie do this in his own time. Meanwhile, Richie would treat this the way he did everything else.

Richie reached for the bottom hem of Eddie's t-shirt, pulling it up gently. Eddie lifted his arms gingerly, letting Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

"If I had known this is what would make you take your clothes off for me," Richie said, carefully folding Eddie's t-shirt, "I would have let that fucking clown stab you a long time ago."

"Beep beep, Richie." Eddie's voice was quiet, almost nonexistent. His eyes were still closed, his head hung low, but the tiniest smile had formed on his lips. "Wash your hands first before you touch my bandages."

Richie set Eddie's t-shirt down on the sink next to the antiseptic, ointment, cotton balls, medical tape, and gauze that Eddie had laid out. Then Richie spent well over a minute soaping up and rinsing his hands, not wanting to take a chance on introducing any sort of infection to Eddie's wound. After he dried his hands, Richie reached for the bandages around Eddie's abdomen, carefully pulling away the tape that held it in place.

"Go slow," Eddie said, as Richie began to unwrap the bandages. "In case the stitches were oozing and the gauze might be sticking to it."

Richie nodded, everything Eddie still had his eyes closed. Richie did as he was told, slowly balling the gauze up into a bunch in his hand. Truth be told, he was slightly concerned about what the scar would look like, but only because his stomach hadn't been the most reliable thing as of late. Jesus Christ, Eddie would never let Richie near him again if Richie ended up puking his guts out right now. In the end, however, Richie's fears proved to be unfounded, because he was distracted by something else entirely.

"_Fuck_, Eds."

"I know!" Eddie cried, sounding a bit desperate. "I know. It's fucking horrible. You can say it!"

"I haven't even gotten there yet," Richie said smugly.

Eddie's eyes blinked open for the first time since he had sat down. He quickly glanced down at the progress Richie had made, to the bandages that were just still covering the bottom of his scar. "Then what are you saying 'fuck' for?" Eddie asked, frowning deeply.

"I told you in the hospital," Richie said, still pulling the bandages away, "but you really are _ripped_, aren't you? You didn't tell me you had a fucking six-pack!"

"I-" Eddie began, but then he stopped entirely. He blinked, like he had no idea how to respond to that. "I told you I work out."

"There's a difference between just working out and being buff up the ass," Richie argued, pleased that he was sufficiently distracting Eddie from what was going on. Richie had already uncovered half of Eddie's scar, and the other man didn't even seem to notice, still too hung up on the fact that Richie was telling him how hot he was.

"Not that you would know the difference," Eddie said. He reached out a finger, pressing it against Richie's hip.

"Those are my love handles," Richie said, wiggling his hips back and forth underneath Eddie's touch. "That's so you have something to grab onto at night."

"Shut the fuck up." Eddie playfully slapped at Richie's waist.

Richie had successfully unwrapped the bandages the rest of the way, and the scar was nowhere near as bad as Eddie seemed to think it was. It was large, stemming from the middle of Eddie's washboard abs, up the center of his chest, and finally petering out where it curled up and around his right pec. Black thread was currently holding the wound closed, but that would be gone soon enough. Was it gruesome? Certainly not, and Richie only hoped that he could get Eddie to believe that at some point.

Disposing of the bandages in the garbage can underneath the sink, Richie asked, "What do I do next?"

"Richie."

"What?"

Eddie had resumed his earlier position of hanging his head low, his eyes closed once again. His cheeks were bright red again now, embarrassment at the fact that he was now completely exposed for Richie to see.

"At least tell me what it looks like," Eddie whispered. "I'd rather you tell me that you're completely disgusted by it than to ignore it completely."

"Eddie," Richie said quietly. Eddie still didn't look at him, so Richie dropped down to his knees on the floor in front of the toilet. He reached up for Eddie's stubbly cheeks, placing his hands on them, and directing Eddie's face towards his.

Eddie had started letting his facial hair grow over the last few weeks in an effort to cover up the scar on his cheek. Richie had told him it was unnecessary, because the scar wasn't even that noticeable anymore, and it would only continue to get better. Eddie didn't listen, insisting that he felt better this way, and Richie had stopped arguing. Truth be told, Richie thought it was pretty fucking sexy. Eddie with facial hair was a new thing, something Richie hadn't even known he had wanted in his life.

When Eddie still didn't open his eyes, Richie said, "Eddie, look at me."

Eddie didn't open his eyes right away, but Richie kept his hands on Eddie's cheeks, waiting. He could see Eddie squeezing his eyes shut even more tightly, but then he finally opened them. They settled on Richie, wide and afraid.

"_Nothing_ about you is disgusting," Richie said firmly, shaking his head. "I told you, you got this when you _saved my life_." Richie lowered one of his hands, very gingerly pressing his fingertips against the part of Eddie's scar that curved around the upper right part of his chest. "I fucking wish I could take it away for you, but does it disgust me? _God, no_. Because it only reminds me of the bravest thing you've ever done in your life – the moment when you placed _my life_ above your own fear and safety. I'm here right now because of this, and I don't see that sacrifice as anything but beautiful."

Eddie's bottom lip quivered the tiniest bit. "Oh, Rich," he whispered, and without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Richie's shoulder.

Richie let the hand he had on Eddie's cheek drift to the back of his neck, gripping it tightly. He still had the fingers of his other hand pressed up against the scar on Eddie's chest, and he didn't move them, feeling the stitches against his skin.

"Okay?" Richie asked, double checking that Eddie was okay.

Nodding against his shoulder, Eddie took a moment to take a deep breath. "And just so you know," Eddie said a few seconds later, "I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat to have you here with me." Pulling away, Eddie paused with his face just in front of Richie's. "I don't know what I'd do if something had happened to you. I'd be even more of a mess than I already am."

Smiling warmly, Richie said, "I love you. So goddamned much."

"I love you."

Richie kissed the corner of Eddie's mouth, then sat back on his heels. He wanted Eddie to know that looking at the scar, having it exposed, didn't make Richie uncomfortable in the least. Then something occurred to Richie.

"Lucky seven," Richie said quietly, letting his finger trace down the length of the scar, down towards Eddie's bellybutton.

"What?"

"It looks like a seven," Richie said, still keeping his fingertips against the very bottom edge of the scar.

Eddie didn't reply right away, but he took a moment to look down at his chest, at Richie's fingers still touching the scar. "It looks like an 'L' from my perspective." His voice was calmer now, not shaking like it had been just a few minutes before. At least Richie figured he was doing something right.

"For the fucking Loser you are," Richie concluded, nodding. "Seems about right."

"Fuck off."

"Do I clean it now?"

"Yeah," Eddie replied, gesturing towards the bottle of solution on the sink. "With the antiseptic and cotton balls. The back and front, and make sure none of it looks red or swollen."

Richie flipped open the cap on the top of the antiseptic bottle, turning it over and soaking a couple of large cotton balls with the liquid. When he pressed the cotton balls against the top of the scar, Eddie hissed in a sharp breath.

"Does it burn?" Richie asked, pulling away the cotton.

Eddie shook his head. "It's fucking cold."

"Okay," Richie said, slowly dabbing the cotton along the length of Eddie's scar. "Let me know if it hurts."

Richie worked in silence, and he was relieved to see that Eddie wasn't keeping his eyes closed any longer. He kept stealing glances at Richie then looking away again. It almost looked like he wanted to say something more, but he didn't.

When Richie finished cleaning the wound on Eddie's chest, he got to his feet and disposed of the cotton balls. He retrieved a couple new ones from the sink, taking a moment to soak these with antiseptic as well. Eddie stayed in his seat, and Richie stepped closer, leaning over and repeating the process on Eddie's back.

Eddie leaned in closer, kissing Richie's stomach through his sweatshirt. Then Eddie reached up his hands, first resting them on Richie's hips, then wrapping them around Richie's waist. It was perhaps the most oddly intimate position they had been in so far, with Eddie not so very far from Richie's belt.

Richie swallowed, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. He was grateful when Eddie spoke up.

"Does it look okay?" Eddie asked, his voice muffled against the front of Richie's sweatshirt. "It's not swollen or anything?"

"No," Richie replied, getting towards the very bottom of the scar with the cotton swab. "It looks good."

Perhaps _good_ wasn't the best choice of words, because they both knew it would never be a _good_ thing, but Richie knew it was _right_ choice. Eddie tightened his hold on Richie's waist, but then Richie felt him relax, letting out a soft sigh. Richie could even feel the muscles in his shoulders and back unclenching. Richie almost felt the urge to say something, to make some smart remark, but he didn't; the silence stretched out between them, and it was nice and comfortable. It felt like home and Richie didn't want to ruin that.

After Richie applied the ointment to the scar and bandaged it back up, he helped Eddie struggle back into his t-shirt. He supported Eddie as he got up off the toilet, and Eddie immediately relaxed into Richie's chest, pressing his face and hands into the soft fabric of his sweatshirt.

"Thank you," Eddie told him.

Richie kissed the top of Eddie's head. "Anytime."

They settled into Richie's bed, Eddie laying on his back, because it was still a bit too uncomfortable for him to lay in any other position. Richie gave Eddie the remote control for the television on the opposite wall, then Richie pulled of his sweatshirt, leaving him in his t-shirt and jeans.

"I…" Richie began, glancing down at himself. "I usually sleep in my boxers. Is that okay? Will it make you uncomfortable?"

"No," Eddie said, smiling sleepily at Richie. "I have pajama pants on. It's not like we're going to be naked."

"Okay," Richie replied before dropped his jeans to the floor the stepping out of them. He took a moment to fold his clothes before he laid down on his side, watching Eddie as he flipped through the channels.

"What?" Eddie asked, glancing at Richie out of the corner of his eye.

"Nothing." Richie bit his lip, wanting desperately to move closer to Eddie, but not sure if it would be welcome just yet. They hadn't shied away from kissing and touching each other thus far, but they were in a bed now; Richie wasn't sure if trying to cuddle with Eddie would be okay or not.

Richie swallowed, then scooched closer to Eddie. When Eddie didn't say anything, Richie reached out a hand, laying it softly across Eddie's stomach.

"Is this okay?" Richie asked uncertainly.

Eddie smiled, turning his head to place a kiss on the tip of Richie's nose. "Yeah," Eddie said, bringing up his hand to intertwine his fingers with Richie's.

Eddie settled on the Investigation Discovery channel on the television, letting the remote control drop to the mattress. Keith Morrison was talking about a woman who had been murdered on a cold, snowy night in February, but neither Richie nor Eddie were listening, sleep coming to claim them almost immediately. The sun was setting outside, painting their room in a bright orangish pink color, like the love they shared had set it on fire.

* * *

When Eddie opened his eyes again, the room was completely dark, except for the glare from the television screen. He wasn't sure what had awakened him at first, but then he felt the mattress next to him bounce harshly. Eddie glanced over, his eyes wide, but it was much too dark for him to see anything.

Then Richie's voice called into the darkness, his voice strained. "_Eddie_!"

"Rich?" Eddie asked, his mind still too sleep-clogged to really register what was happening. Then he realized that Richie was thrashing around next to him, one of his arms perfectly silhouetted against the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Eddie reached out for him, his hand settling on Richie's sweat-soaked t-shirt, but then it was yanked out of his grip again.

"_Eddie_!" Richie cried again, and it sounded strangled this time, like Richie had begun to cry.

"Richie!" Eddie said, sitting up as quickly as his injuries would allow him. Eddie bit his bottom lip against the slight pull he felt across his abdomen, then reached out for Richie again. This time, Eddie's fingers closed around Richie's damp bicep, squeezing it slightly. "Richie!" Eddie said again, giving Richie's arm a soft shake. "Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Richie jerked one last time, his eyes opening wide, his breath coming fast and harsh. His face was bathed in the blueish light from the television, and Eddie could see his lips quivering with every breath in and out. Richie stared up at Eddie, like he didn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"Hey," Eddie said, turning towards Richie more fully. Richie had done so very much for him since they had returned to Derry, and now it was Eddie's turn to repay the favor. Eddie let his hand drift across to Richie's chest, placing it over his heart. Eddie could feel Richie's heart pounding so very hard, and Eddie wanted nothing more than to take Richie in his arms, but he didn't. Richie still seemed confused and disoriented, and Eddie wanted to let him get his bearings before he did anything further.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked, gently rubbing his thumb over Richie's damp t-shirt.

"Oh, fuck," Richie whispered, reality seeming to hit him all at once. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing at his eyes harshly. "Jesus Christ, you were dead." Richie's voice was small and afraid, a tone that Eddie didn't hear from him very often.

"I'm not dead," Eddie said, moving his hand up towards Richie's face. He rested it on his cheek, now rubbing his thumb over the stubble there. "I'm not dead. I'm right here."

Richie took a shuddering breath, then sat up so quickly, Eddie released his hold on him and drew back. But then all at once, Richie seemed to collapse against him, his head going into the crook between Eddie's shoulder and neck. He pressed his forehead against Eddie's bare skin there, then brought his arms up, gently wrapping them around Eddie's middle.

"I'm not dead," Eddie repeated. He laid one arm across Richie's back, then ran the other one through Richie's hair, wiping his sweaty curls back from his face. "I'm fine." Then desperately trying to lighten the mood, Eddie added, "As fine as I can be after being stabbed by a fucking space clown."

"Oh my god, Eddie," Richie choked out around a sob. He was shaking against Eddie, soaking Eddie with his own sweat and probably tears now too, but Eddie didn't care. Eddie just held him tighter, waiting for Richie's cries to subside.

Eddie lost track of how long they sat there like that, clinging to each other in the darkened room, lit only by the flickering images on the television and the faint moonlight coming in through the window.

"Jesus Christ," Richie said, gasping in a calming breath and finally releasing his hold on Eddie. He didn't move away though, Eddie's hands still on his back and in his hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Eddie asked, releasing Richie's hair to cup a hand over his cheek. When Richie didn't reply, Eddie added, "Sometimes it helps."

"Just…" Richie bit out, but then he stopped. He rubbed at his face again, then pushed back at his soaked hair in annoyance. Eddie could see him swallowing before he said, "They made me leave you down there." Richie was staring ahead at the television when he said this, but then he looked back at Eddie, his eyes wide and desperate. "Down there in the sewer, and they…they were dragging me away. We…we got out and…the house collapsed on you and…Jesus, you were down there. I tried to go back for you, but…they wouldn't let me and…you were down there."

Richie sobbed again and leaned forward, resting his head against Eddie's shoulder once more.

"I'm not down there," Eddie told him, running his hand up and down Richie's still quivering back in an effort to calm him. "I'm not down there, because you wouldn't leave me. I'm right here. In our bed."

All at once, Richie pressed a kiss into Eddie's neck and said, "Our bed." It was the calmest he'd sounded since they'd gone to sleep.

"Yeah," Eddie told him, relaxing into the stubble of Richie's cheek against him. He didn't know why, but he loved the feel of Richie's facial hair against his skin, and he always seemed drawn to it especially whenever Richie kissed him. Perhaps because it was the furthest thing from Myra he could get – Richie's big, strong, broad shoulders and facial hair. Reminders that for the very first time in Eddie's life, he was truly giving into what he wanted, the rest of the world be damned.

Eddie had known for most of his life that he was bisexual, and he had certainly never hidden that fact, at least where his friends and coworkers were concerned. At the same time, however, Eddie never allowed himself to even remotely think about being with a man. It just always felt like he was _supposed_ to be with a woman and so that was what he did.

Perhaps Eddie was in the closet in certain ways, or maybe Eddie just didn't want to be with a man, because there was only one man he'd ever wanted. Even when he couldn't consciously remember Richie, a part of Eddie always knew he was there, buried somewhere deep down inside his memories and inside his heart.

_A man._

_Richie._

_His Richie._

Eddie turned his head, seeking out Richie's lips in the dark and kissing him deeply. Richie moaned into his mouth, his skin against Eddie's mouth tasting salty from sweat and tears. Richie's hands gripped Eddie's shoulders tightly through the fabric of his t-shirt, like he might be holding on for dear life.

When their kiss broke, Richie pulled Eddie into an embrace, hugging him so fiercely, Eddie didn't think he'd ever let go. And that was okay.

They eventually laid back down on Eddie's side of mattress where it wasn't soaked through with sweat. Eddie resumed his most comfortable position on his back, pulling Richie into his arms and hugging him back just as tightly.

Richie's breathing had slowed, and Eddie almost thought he had fallen back asleep, but then Richie spoke into the darkened room. "I didn't know you liked all this true crime shit."

Eddie hummed in response, not really expecting that to be the thing that Richie pointed out right now. "Yeah," Eddie quietly, raking his fingers up and down Richie's bicep. "Just…in the last ten years or so I started getting really into it." Eddie laughed quietly, gesturing to the television screen.

Keith Morrison was talking about an entirely different crime now, something about a couple who had been murdered in their bed. Was that a fucked up thing to watch when he was in bed himself and trying to sleep? Probably.

"I love this Keith Morrison guy," Eddie said. "Actually, before I discovered you on YouTube, I used to put this channel on all the time, hoping that he'd be on. His voice is calming."

"When he's talking about a couple who was stabbed to death," Richie pointed out, breath warm against Eddie's shoulder. "Sure is."

"Hey," Eddie said, only a little indignant, "you were the one who said it was great that I found something that helped my anxiety. Now you're questioning it. Hypocrite."

"I liked it better when _I_ was the one who helped your anxiety."

"You still are."

"Yeah?"

"God, fuck yeah," Eddie said, then he stopped. He thought about the fact that his breathing was coming so slow and easy, even though this was the first time he'd slept in a bed with the fucking love of his life. His heart was beating at an even and tempered pace, even though he thought it should be beating out of his chest right now at the thought that Richie fucking Tozier was getting ready to fall asleep _in his arms_.

Eddie thought back to the bathroom, to the way he could barely even _look_ at Richie once his shirt and bandages were off. To the fact that he almost had fucking panic attack at _thought_ of Richie seeing his scar. To the way Richie had looked at him tenderly, not shying away from what Eddie knew was a horrific wound, winding its way down his chest. To the way Richie had so gently held him as Eddie tried not to hyperventilate and run from the room in abject terror.

Richie. Always Richie who knew how to ground him. To keep him calm.

"Who else could have calmed me down in that bathroom?" Eddie asked. "I was so fucking scared of you seeing my scar, and then…" Eddie broke off, laughing breathlessly into the darkened room of the townhouse in fucking Derry. Derry of all places. The one place that was so full of nightmares and brushes with death was now the town where he had gotten together with Richie. It was ridiculous the way things worked out sometimes, and Eddie wasn't even sure how he was supposed to feel about this godforsaken town anymore.

"And then what?" Richie asked sleepily, stirring Eddie from his thoughts.

"I don't know," Eddie replied, not even sure what he had been talking about a moment before. It took him a while to backtrack, to remember what he had said. "Then you made it okay," he said simply.

"It _is_ okay," Richie said, caressing his fingertips gently over Eddie's chest, the fabric of his t-shirt dragging lightly back and forth against his bandages with the movement. But it didn't hurt. It actually felt kind of nice, and Eddie hadn't thought that would even be a thing – actually _liking_ when Richie paid attention to the area around his scar.

"I know." Eddie turned his head, burying his nose in Richie's curls and kissing the top of his head. "I didn't before, but I do now."

Richie took a deep breath, and Eddie could feel him relaxing further, almost melting into Eddie's grip. Neither of them spoke, and Eddie's eyelids started to feel heavy with sleep. He closed them, Keith Morrison's voice and Richie's calm breath against his skin lulling him back to sleep. It was like the best of both worlds – Keith Morrison and Richie Tozier at the same damned time, only one of them was actually here in his arms. Who would have thought?

"Eds?"

Eddie's brain had almost settled into that cusp just before sleep claimed him completely. "Hm?" he hummed, his brain swimming to the surface of consciousness.

"Come to LA with me."

Eddie's eyes flew open and he suddenly felt wide awake. "What?"

"Come to LA with me," Richie said again, louder and more insistent than he had the first time. "I don't…I don't want this to end, you know? I…I want it to be like this all the time – just fucking laying in bed with you and _cuddling_." When Eddie didn't reply, he could feel Richie tense slightly in his arms. "I mean, I know we haven't talked about where we're going to live yet, but…we're going to live together, right? If we're going to be together, it's…not going to be long distance, is it? Because I think we've spent enough time apart."

"Way too much time apart," Eddie agreed, stopping Richie's barrage of questions before he started to work himself up into another frenzy. "And I actually don't want to go back to fucking New York, because there's way too many memories there of my mother and now Myra." Eddie sighed heavily, giving Richie a squeeze around his shoulders. "I need a fresh start somewhere and…yeah, I'll come to LA with you." Eddie laughed quietly, still marveling at how well Richie knew him, even after all their time apart. "I was actually afraid you wouldn't ask me," Eddie admitted. "I knew you'd have to go back to LA eventually, and I thought you'd leave me alone in fucking New York. Then I'd just have to show up on your doorstep, cause I wouldn't know what else to do."

Richie reached across Eddie's chest, gripping his shoulder firmly. "I'm not going to leave you alone again," Richie told him. "Ever."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

Sleep came back to claim them both after that. There were no more nightmares to be had, not tonight, Eddie and Richie both clinging to each other like no one and nothing else mattered.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: I have no idea where the character of James came from, but I imagine him to be a big, buff black guy, and I love him. He'll probably show up again at some point in the story, and oh my god. This was one of the first scenes I had in mind for this story, and it was so great to finally be able to write it. And now this damn story has gotten so ridiculously huge in my mind, there's about a million more of these moments to come. Thank you to everyone who's still reading, and I hope you enjoy the rest of this journey this story takes me on, because I'm going to go with it!_


	10. Chapter 10: The Kissing Bridge

**Brave  
**Chapter 10 – The Kissing Bridge

Richie awoke to bright morning sunshine streaming through the windows. At first, he squinted his eyes and started to turn away from it, but when he realized where he was, he stopped.

Holy shit, he was in bed with Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms last night after Richie had had his nightmare, and their limbs were still tangled together. Eddie was on his back and Richie was curled up on his side around him. One of Richie's legs was settled in between Eddie's, his arm was slung over Eddie's chest, and his head was pillowed on Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie, meanwhile, was sprawled across the mattress. One arm was flung up over the pillows while the one trapped underneath Richie was stretched out to the side. Eddie was still sound asleep, his face completely relaxed and serene in a way that Richie had never seen before, not even when he had been sleeping in the hospital.

God, he was beautiful and Richie wanted to make it his life's mission to see Eddie like this every single morning. Richie couldn't even fucking believe that out of all the people in the world, Eddie wanted to lie there _with him_. Wanted to have a life _with him_. With all the hellraising he'd done, Richie still must have done something very right with his life to have ended up here. With the one thing he wanted most in the world.

Just then, Richie's stomach gave a loud grumble of protest. A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table over Eddie's head told him that it was nearly nine o'clock, so they hadn't eaten anything in well over fifteen hours. Jesus. Richie hadn't even been planning on sleeping through the night since they had fallen asleep so early, but there was something about being in Eddie's arms that made him ridiculously calm and relaxed. Richie couldn't even believe that he hadn't woken up again after his nightmare. Just…something was suddenly so very right.

Richie let out a contented sigh before he placed a quick kiss on Eddie's cheek. Eddie still didn't stir, and Richie was glad, because he needed the rest. Only the soft rise and fall of Eddie's chest gave an indication that the man was still breathing, so Richie would leave him for now.

"I'll be back," Richie whispered, carefully getting out of bed. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and put them on before throwing on a pair of sweatpants. He unceremoniously shoved his feet into his sneakers before he grabbed the room key and quietly let himself out into the hall.

Before he even made it to the ground floor, Richie could hear Beverly and Ben's soft conversation drifting up the stairs to him. They were seated at the bar, drinking coffee and eating muffins.

The inn offered a free continental breakfast every morning, although this was Richie's first time that he would actually eat it, considering he slept at the hospital every night with Eddie. Richie was grateful for it now though; he and Eddie could eat a little something now and then get a bigger meal a little bit later. Richie only hoped that there would be something for Eddie considering his apparent food allergies.

"Oh my god, he lives," Ben said, giving Richie a knowing smile over the top of his coffee cup.

Beverly turned around in her seat, her face lighting up when she saw Richie. "It looks like you got some sleep," she said, placing a soft hand on Richie's arm when he plopped down into the chair next to her.

"I did," Richie said around a yawn, running a hand through his hair. He reached for a mug on bar, filling it with coffee from a steaming pot and dumping three heaping spoonfuls of sugar in it. "I actually didn't realize how sleep-deprived I was after all those nights in the hospital."

"Come on," Ben said. "You've been looking like the walking dead, dude."

"I always look like the walking dead," Richie disagreed. "I told you, you two look amazing, and I'm not sure what the fuck happened to me." He snorted and said, "Eddie told me I need to eat better and start exercising."

"Wouldn't hurt," Ben agreed. "How do you think I lost all that weight? I started eating salads like there was no tomorrow and I started running."

"What is it with you two and running?" Richie asked, sipping at his steaming coffee. "Eddie does too. Has a treadmill at home."

"I run outside," Ben told him. "I went out for the track team when I left Derry and it kind of went from there. The fresh air is better for your respiratory function."

Richie hummed in thought. "I should suggest that to Eddie – running outdoors. He'd probably like it better than running in a stuffy room all the time."

"How is Eddie?" Beverly asked next, taking another bite of her muffin.

Richie took a few more sips of his coffee before setting it down on the bar. "He's still sleeping. I thought I'd let him rest, but I think he's okay. Mostly glad to be out of the hospital." Richie paused for a moment, reaching for a bagel on a platter. "He's a bit self-conscious about his scar," Richie said, motioning to his chest. "It took a while, but he finally let me change his bandages last night. I just hope it isn't something that's going to affect his self-confidence in the long run, because god knows he's had enough of that."

Ben finished his bite of muffin before he said, "You know what helps? Let him know you acknowledge it, and then be the same asshole you've always been." Ben winked at Richie over the top of Bev's head.

"Yeah," Richie said, giving Ben a grateful smile. "That's what I tried to do." Richie stared down into his coffee cup and sighed. "I just hope I made him realize that it's not going to change how I feel about him."

Bev placed a hand over one of Richie's, giving it a quick squeeze. "He's lucky to have you," she said warmly.

"Not half as lucky as I am," Richie said, almost without even thinking about it. The words were out of his mouth before he had even processed them, and he could feel his cheeks burning red. Being with Eddie had gotten so comfortable in the last few weeks, especially with James knowing about them, and in his happiness, Richie had almost forgotten to be discreet about it.

Neither Ben nor Bev said anything, so Richie cleared his throat just for the noise. Richie then busied himself with slathering a couple bagels with cream cheese (extra for his better half), and stirring cream into a cup of coffee for Eddie.

"I'm going to get this up to Eddie," Richie said, placing the plates and mugs on a tray. He kept bumping the plates together and making ridiculous amounts of noise, because his hands were shaking. "We haven't eaten since he got out of the hospital, so I imagine he'll be fucking starving."

Still, neither Ben nor Bev spoke; they only watched him, and Richie wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

Richie was on his feet a moment later, hoping that he wouldn't trip up the stairs on the way to Eddie's room. Richie could hear Bev murmuring something to Ben behind him, although Richie couldn't make out what it was. Richie wasn't sure he even wanted to know what she'd said.

Jesus Christ, why was he such an idiot?

Just before Richie put his key into the keyhole with a shaking hand, he could hear Eddie's slightly panicked voice calling to him from the other side of the door.

"Rich? _Richie_?"

This made Richie forget about his previous conversation with Ben and Bev completely. Richie quickly turned the key and pushed the door open. "I'm right here," Richie told him. "I just went down to get us some breakfast." He lifted up the tray for Eddie to see.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie muttered around a gasp for air. "I didn't know where you went." Eddie suddenly grimaced in pain, and Richie realized his injuries must have roared to life this morning.

Richie hurriedly set the tray and the room key on the dresser before he asked, "Do you need your pain meds?"

"Please," Eddie sobbed.

Eddie's hands were clenched into fists, balling up the sheets underneath them. His shoulders and arms looked tight and strained again, and Richie just wished that he could take that tenseness out of Eddie forever, just like he had last night.

"In through your nose, out through your mouth," Richie reminded him.

"Yeah," Eddie gasped out, then deliberately followed Richie's instructions for a moment. "I needed the sleep, because the hospital is a shit place for that, but I haven't had any painkillers since I was released yesterday. I should have taken some last night when we woke up."

"I'm sorry," Richie apologized, quickly reaching for the bottle in Eddie's bag. "I should have thought to remind you. And I should have told you where I was going before I left the room." Richie opened the pill bottle, carefully spilling one out into the cap. He knew better than to touch the pill with his own hand before he gave it to Eddie.

"It's fine," Eddie replied around another measured breath. "I just…didn't know where you were." Eddie diverted his eyes away from Richie, frowning deeply as he stared across the room.

"Hey," Richie said, making his way around the bed to Eddie's side. He reached his arm underneath Eddie's shoulders, lifting him up gingerly so he could tip the pill back into Eddie's mouth. Once he set Eddie back down on his pillows, Richie closed the pill bottle and set it down on the bedside table.

"You really didn't think I up and left, did you?" Richie asked, genuinely dumbfounded. "Without a word to you?" He couldn't think of a stupider decision he could have made. The love of his life fucking wanted to be with him, and he certainly wasn't about to give that up now that he had it.

"I…I don't know," Eddie mumbled, still not meeting Richie's eyes, but focusing on his breathing.

"Eds…" Richie began, but then he stopped again. He made his way to the other side of the bed, toeing off his shoes as he went, because he knew better than to put dirty shoes on the bed with Eddie around. Richie climbed into the bed, careful not to jostle Eddie too much. Richie faced him, propping his head up in one of his hands.

"Might I remind you that I asked you to come to LA with me last night?" Richie asked him, reaching for one of Eddie's hands. "And you said yes. You do remember that, don't you?"

"Yeah. Of course I do," Eddie whispered. "I just…I don't know." He stared down at where Richie was holding his hand tightly. "This seems too good to be true, you know? I've wanted nothing but you for so long and I…kind of woke up expecting it to have all been a dream. Especially when you weren't here." He frowned deeply again.

"Believe me," Richie said, gripping Eddie's hand tighter, "I want you just as much. Aside from the nightmare, last night was the best night's sleep I've had in…I don't even know how long. Just being in your arms. Tell me I'm wrong."

Eddie shook his head. "You're _not_ wrong."

"And I know it's hard to believe," Richie said, "because I have to keep reminding myself that it's real too. But fuck, I'm not going to just up and leave you. I know I'm a jackass, but I'm not that much of a jackass. Do give me some credit."

Eddie's expression immediately softened. "Rich, I'm sorry," he said around a sigh. "I didn't mean it like that. I know you wouldn't do that. Just…fuck. Shit this good doesn't happen to me, you know? I'm so used to people like _Myra_, and my _mother_, and…you're so far removed from them it's scary." Eddie finally met Richie's eyes again and smiled deeply up at him. "And I mean that in a totally good way."

"I fucking hope so." Richie pulled his hand out of Eddie's grasp, and then placed it on Eddie's cheek. "And I fucking love you so much." He shook his head firmly. "I'm not going anywhere, Eds. Not now that I have you, so get used to it."

Eddie leaned his cheek into Richie's touch, placing his own hand on top of Richie's. "I love you," Eddie whispered back.

It then occurred to Richie that he had made a promise to Eddie in the hospital, and he couldn't think of a better time to keep it. "Do you feel up to taking a trip today?" Richie asked hopefully.

Eddie's frown was back. "I…I don't know. Once my pain meds kick in and as long as it's not far, I guess."

"It's not. Just on the other side of town."

"I guess," Eddie said again. "Why? Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see," Richie said, placing a quick kiss to Eddie's lips before climbing off the bed. "But you need some sustenance first." He made his way over to the dresser, grabbing the cup of coffee he made for Eddie and the bagel piled with cream cheese. He brought it over to Eddie's bedside table where he set it down.

Eddie eyed it carefully. "You remembered how I take my coffee and bagels?"

Richie laughed. "How could I forget?"

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to have a bagel right now, though," Eddie said regretfully. "Having that Big Mac last night was already pushing it."

"Jesus, you act like I don't know you at all," Richie said. He placed a hand over his heart and rolled his eyes, trying to act hurt. "They had a gluten free option. Hard to believe in a place like this, I know. Seems they're a bit fancier than these lovely rooms would suggest."

Eddie snorted.

"And I remembered you like a little bagel with your cream cheese," Richie said.

"The cream cheese is the best part!"

"Can you sit up?"

"I…I think so."

Richie placed his arm under Eddie's shoulders again, gently lifting him up. Eddie grimaced as he went, but he otherwise didn't make a sound. When Eddie was sitting up straight, Richie restacked and fluffed the pillows behind him, then he helped Eddie move back until he was leaning comfortably up against them.

Richie gently sat down on the edge of the bed, then handed Eddie his coffee first. "Your hot, creamy bean water," Richie told him.

Eddie laughed, taking the warm mug in his hands. "And I assume you still take yours with fifty million scoops of sugar."

"It's three."

"Still gross." Eddie frowned as he took a sip from his cup. "I don't know how you can drink something so sweet."

"At least it's better than just coffee and cream. It's fucking bitter as shit, man."

"Besides," Eddie said, taking another sip of coffee, "don't think you need anymore sugar cause you're kind of already sweet enough."

Richie blinked at him, feeling like a complete and total dumbass. It almost seemed like something in his mind had short-circuited, because he felt like running around the room and screaming like a total lunatic. Or something. He wasn't entirely sure, because on the other hand, it almost felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath him entirely. Richie had only dreamed of Eddie telling him such things, and he wasn't quite sure if he'd ever get used to this shit.

"That was really fucking sappy," Richie said instead when his found his voice.

Eddie set the coffee mug down in his lap, keeping his hands wrapped around it and staring down at it intently. "I know," Eddie whispered. "But…I feel like you're doing so much for me, and you don't have to, you know." Eddie glanced up at Richie. "What the hell would I be doing right now if you weren't here to help me? I'm sure the others would have helped me, but…I told you, I couldn't imagine letting anyone else see my scar. Except you. And then you bring me breakfast and-"

"And I love you," Richie interrupted him gently around a smile. "I know no else in your life did, but this is how I choose to show it."

"In between asshole jokes about my dead mother and just being an all-around dickhead."

"You fucking love it," Richie said smugly. He leaned forward, capturing Eddie's lips in a kiss.

When Eddie pulled away, he grabbed the front of Richie's t-shirt with his free hand. "I fucking love _you_," he said before pulling Richie back in for a deeper kiss.

Richie moaned, seeking out Eddie's mouth with his tongue. A moment later, Richie laid his hand over Eddie's chest, tracing where he thought the scar ran from the upper right all the way down to his abs.

Eddie made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sob. He broke the kiss a moment later, but then laid his head on Richie's shoulder. He didn't say anything else, and he didn't need to.

* * *

After they had finished their breakfast and got cleaned up, Richie and Eddie were on their way across town in Richie's bright red convertible.

"Won't you tell me where we're going?" Eddie asked, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

"If you don't remember, I'm not going to tell you."

Eddie glanced back at him quickly. "So you've told me before?"

Richie hummed in agreement, not taking his eyes off the road. "I told you while you were sleeping."

Blinking at him in confusion, Eddie replied, "You said a lot of fucking things while I was sleeping. It kind of all got overshadowed when you said you loved me though. I…have a hard time remembering anything else. I was on so many pain meds, I'm lucky I remember that much."

"At least you remember the most important thing," Richie said. He glanced at Eddie briefly, reaching out his right hand, firmly grasping Eddie's in his. They threaded their fingers together while Richie returned his eyes to the road. "It'll be a nice surprise."

Eddie didn't say anything else, but rubbed his thumb along Richie's as they drove.

When Richie stopped the car, Eddie stared out the window at their destination. He looked like he was trying to remember some long-buried memory, but he couldn't quite get there. His frown was so deep, Richie almost thought he might be hurting himself with the concentration.

Richie got out of the car and came around to Eddie's side. When he opened the door, he slid his arm behind Eddie's shoulders, helping him turn in his seat and climb to his feet.

"Remember yet?" Richie asked, staring down into Eddie's eyes.

"I…" Eddie began, but then he paused. His eyes trailed off to the side, along the boards of the Kissing Bridge. He still appeared to be confused and lost in thought.

"Come on," Richie said. He took one of Eddie's hands in his and gently led him a few feet past the front of the car.

"Rich…"

When Richie stopped, he turned to face Eddie and said, "I've wanted to show you this for twenty-seven goddamn years." He paused, swallowed hard, and stared down at the ground between them before he went on. "I thought it was a secret I was going to have to keep for the rest of my life. I _planned_ on keeping it for the rest of my life. Because even if you didn't feel the same way, I was convinced that you'd hate me." When Richie raised his eyes to Eddie's again, he could feel the tears escaping them. "I never imagined that we'd be here together and that I'd actually be _showing_ you."

"Showing me what?" Eddie's voice was far away, like he was still straining to remember some long-lost memory.

Richie lifted Eddie's hand, bringing it up to the board of the bridge just in front of them. He pressed Eddie's fingers into the carving he had made nearly three decades ago: _R+E_.

"This," Richie said simply, glancing back up at Eddie again.

Eddie stared at it long and hard, unblinking and swallowing several times. He didn't seem like he understood what was happening, and for a brief moment, Richie was afraid that Eddie might have taken one too many pain pills that morning, even though he knew he hadn't.

"Eds?" Richie asked, concern flooding his voice. "Please say something, because you're scaring the hell out of me."

A moment later, Eddie smiled, raising his eyes to Richie's. "Sorry," Eddie said, his smile growing wider. "I can't fucking believe I forgot this. I didn't remember until just now, but…you're not the only one."

It was perhaps the largest smile that Richie had seen on Eddie's face since they had returned to Derry, and it was something that Richie wanted to see there all the time. But still, he didn't quite understand what Eddie was telling him.

"What do you mean?"

"Rich," Eddie said warmly. It was his turn to take Richie's hand in his, guiding it down to the board just below the one where Richie had carved their initials. Eddie laid Richie's fingers over a heart carved into the old and weathered wood with the letter _R_ inside.

"I told you," Eddie said. "We've both been pining over each other for twenty-seven stupid years."

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of Richie's lungs. He sort of wished he had his own fucking inhaler, because he was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He took his own advice of breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth before he gathered himself enough to ask, "When? When did you do this?"

"The Halloween after we fought It," Eddie answered. "Remember we had that dance at school?"

* * *

_The Losers had all decided to go to the dance as a group, since none of them had dates. So Eddie thought it was pretty fucking stupid for Richie to get a date at the last minute. April McFucker or whatever the hell her name was had run up to Richie in school the day before, asking him in a rush and blushing furiously. Richie had only shrugged and said, "Sure."_

_"__We agreed to go as a group," Eddie snapped at him as they made their way to the school the next evening. "I didn't know it was the Losers plus one."_

_"__It's just a stupid Halloween dance," Richie said nonchalantly, shrugging. "Who cares? And she was so excited. Didn't want to let her down." Richie grinned at him, and Eddie wanted to fucking punch him._

_Eddie wasn't even entirely sure why he was so upset, but he couldn't keep his hands from clenching into fists at his sides. Maybe it was the way Richie brushed it off like it was nothing. Maybe it was the way Richie was suddenly acting like a ladies' man when he very clearly wasn't. But Eddie was pretty sure it was because he was dressed like the goddamned Joker._

_Richie in his stupid purple suit and the stupid-looking mask with the green hair made him look even more ridiculous than he normally did, but Eddie still didn't know why it got under his skin so much. It was just stupid._

_Maybe it was also because Eddie's mother didn't really approve of Halloween and wouldn't buy him a proper costume. Eddie just ended up wearing a pair of blue jeans and a red sweater, and he borrowed the Freddy Krueger mask that Richie had worn the year before. It was a half-assed costume and Eddie didn't even care anymore, the mask hanging limply from his clenched fingers._

_When they got to the school, the Losers made their way over to the snack table. It was dark in the gymnasium, and Eddie didn't really feel up to picking through the food for something he could actually eat, so he sat down with the rest of the unpopular kids who didn't have anyone to dance with. It was like sitting on Reject Row and Eddie wondered why he even subjected himself to this shit. He could be at home watching stupid sitcoms with his mom instead._

_And never before in his life had Eddie wished to be home with his mother, so what the hell was wrong with him? Eddie just knew that the music was too loud, the few spotlights in the gymnasium were too bright, flashing in and out of sequence in ugly and garish colors like red and blue. All of it made Eddie's head hurt. This was supposed to be a fun night, their first real celebration after defeating It, so why was Eddie so insistent on being miserable?_

_The other Losers were standing around the snack table, eating and laughing, not even seeming to notice that Eddie wasn't among them. Perhaps it was because his place had been taken by April McFucker, dressed all in black with a pair of cat ears on. Her costume was even more half-assed than Eddie's, and that was saying something._

_April had one of her arms looped around Richie's and she kept laughing at everything Richie said. Richie wasn't even that funny, so Eddie didn't know who she was trying to fool. Richie seemed to be reveling in it though, lapping up the attention that was she was laying thickly upon him._

_Eddie wondered if anyone would even notice if he slipped out and went home, because this was the stupidest night he could remember having in a long time. Maybe even worse than when they had fought It. He wasn't sure. What the hell was he even doing here? Playing third wheel to the couple that Richie suddenly seemed to be a part of? This wasn't what this was supposed to be like. Eddie should have been there next to Richie, telling him how dumb his jokes were instead of giggling like an idiot._

_Eddie was nearly about to get up and leave when the loud rock song on the stereo changed to a slow series of sad-sounding opening chords. It was a song that Eddie knew well, one that he had heard time and time again on the radio – _Angel of the Morning_ by Juice Newton._

_A moment later, April was pulling Richie into the center of the gymnasium, wrapping her arms around his neck for their first slow dance as a couple._

_Eddie felt like he wanted to throw up. He could feel that burning in his throat, his eyes tearing up at the sensation. Before the first verse of the song was over, Eddie was on his feet, tearing out of the gymnasium, and towards the front doors of the school. He barely made it to the sidewalk outside before he lost the contents of his stomach, the remains of his mother's meatloaf and potatoes splattering to the concrete._

* * *

"You were jealous!" Richie said around a snicker. "You were so jealous of April you made yourself sick! And it was April McGregor, not McFucker, asshole."

"I never understood why you agreed to go out with her in the first place," Eddie said indignantly, a ghost of the burning feeling rising up in his esophagus at the thought. "You never talked to her before or since."

"Yeah, she tried," Richie sighed. "There were no sparks obviously. She just laughed at my jokes." Richie frowned, trying to remember everything that had happened between him and the girl he had barely even spoken to. He shrugged. "You know, I was already pretty sure I was gay. Bowers seemed convinced of that fact anyway, so I figured it would help to try and cover it up."

"Weren't you already hung up on me too?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah," Richie whispered. "I told you, I thought this was so far out of the realm of possibilities, I figured it didn't matter." Richie paused, catching his bottom lip in his teeth before he said, "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I never would have went with her if I knew it would upset you so much."

Eddie leaned into Richie grip, letting his head rest against Richie's shoulder. "You didn't know," Eddie told him. "Besides, it wasn't like we could have gone to the dance together anyway."

"No," Richie said regretfully. He sidestepped so that he was behind Eddie, wrapping his arms around him from behind. "But I still wouldn't have gone with her if I had known, because I was far too crazy about you." He hummed as Eddie leaned his head back against his shoulder. "If only we had figured this shit out sooner."

"And you know what's really fucked up?"

"Hm?"

"Pennywise knew about that song," Eddie said, suddenly drawing a sharp breath. "_Angel of the Morning_? When that leper threw up on me at the pharmacy…I could hear that fucking song in my ears." He gasped for breath again, closing his eyes tightly against the memory. "It fucking knew that song would make me feel sick to my stomach, like getting thrown up on didn't already do that."

"Breathe," Richie told him, running a gentle hand up and down Eddie's chest. "The fucking space clown is dead. For real this time. He can't fuck with us like that anymore."

Richie could feel Eddie's chest shaking with every breath in and out, and Richie only hoped that his words and his touch could soothe Eddie's harsh breathing like they had so many times before. Richie didn't even know if Eddie realized how long it had been since he had used an inhaler, but it hadn't been since they had been down in the sewers. Just before Eddie had dropped his extra inhaler into the fire to burn it, he had used it for the very last time. They had had him on oxygen during most of his stay in the hospital, and Richie had been successful in talking Eddie down every time he seemed to be on the verge of another attack. Eddie still carried an inhaler in his pocket, but his first instinct was to try and breathe through it now instead of reaching in his pocket. Goddamn, but Richie was proud of him.

"Yeah," Eddie agreed. He grimaced as he took one last shuddering breath, relaxing back against Richie again. Richie could see him swallowing several times, probably against the feeling that his memories had stirred up.

"Just so you know, I did my carving _before_ we fought It," Richie said, pointing to the boards in front of them. He couldn't keep the triumphant note from his voice. "I win."

Eddie gently and playfully elbowed Richie in the ribs. "It's not a competition, you fucking idiot."

"The _R+E_ would have been there already when you carved the heart," Richie said wistfully. "It didn't occur to you…?"

Eddie snorted and shook his head. "_No_. To be honest, I'm not sure if I even noticed it. I came here the morning after the dance. I was still feeling sick to my stomach, and I was so consumed with jealously, I doubt I was even thinking straight. I was probably looking for an _R+A_ anyway, because I was pretty convinced that you two were deeply in love or something."

"Never," Richie whispered, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind Eddie's ear. He felt Eddie shiver against him. Richie filed that bit of information away for later as he added, "It's only ever been you."

Eddie turned his head, kissing Richie's neck in return. "For me too."

"So you don't remember what else I told you in the hospital about this?"

Eddie looked at Richie out of the corner of his eye, then he shook his head. "I told you, I don't remember much of anything other than you telling me you loved me. Nothing else seemed important after that."

Richie momentarily tightened his grip around Eddie's middle, still careful not to squeeze too hard. "I said that if you ever got out of the hospital, and if you didn't hate my guts completely, that'd I'd bring you here to recarve our initials. I just didn't know that we'd be recarving a cute little _R_ in a heart that you did."

"Can we?"

"Yeah," Richie said, relinquishing his hold on Eddie and digging his pocket knife out of his pants. He opened it, waiting for Eddie to rest his own hand on top of his. They entwined a couple of their fingers together over the handle of the blade, then they retraced the letters they carved into the board so very long ago. Twenty-seven years ago, both of their hearts hurting and pining for something that they didn't know they could even have. For something the other had wanted just as badly.

When they were done, it was Eddie's turn to dig in his own pocket for something. At first, Richie thought he was searching for his inhaler, except he wasn't even breathing hard. A moment later, he withdrew a small object that Richie had to lean in to see.

Eddie opened his palm, revealing the golden wedding band that up until his stay in the hospital, he had been wearing on his finger. The doctors had obviously removed it when he had been brought in, and it hadn't even occurred to Richie what had happened to it. Until now.

"I was waiting for the right spot to do this at," Eddie said. He drew his hand back as far as he could given his current injuries, then flung the ring as far as it would go. It sailed over the railing of the bridge, over where their initials were carved, then it hit a few of the crispy red and orange leaves on the trees before it tumbled down towards the river and out of sight.

Richie couldn't help the grin that spread over his features, even as he said, "Myra is going to kill you."

Eddie shrugged. "She's going to kill me anyway. What's the difference?" Eddie turned back to face Richie again, his hands going up to Richie's chest. He wrapped his hands in the front of Richie's sweatshirt before he said decisively, "This is _our_ beginning. Not hers. I…want you to know that I want this…as much as you do."

"I know," Richie whispered, leaning forward and kissing Eddie deeply. But then something occurred to Richie and he pulled away, pulling his phone from his pocket. "What was that song? _Angel of the Morning_, right?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Richie," Eddie suddenly pleaded, his eyes going wide. "Please don't. Not if you don't want me to toss my breakfast on the bridge." He placed a hand over his mouth and turned away.

"Pennywise is gone," Richie reminded him. He stepped up behind Eddie, placing his free hand on his shoulder. "There won't be anymore lepers puking on you. And I have no idea where April McGregor is, but I promise I won't be dancing with her again either." Richie paused, typing his name of the song into his phone. "I…kind of wanted to dance to it with you." He swallowed hard, suddenly not sure if he was pushing Eddie too far or not. He wanted to give Eddie a reason to like the song, to help erase the bad memories of it in his mind. "If…if that's okay. But if I'm being stupid…just tell me, okay? Because I can still be stupid sometimes."

"You're stupid _all the fucking time_," Eddie bit back, turning to face Richie again, his expression softening. Richie could hear and see him swallowing as Eddie stared at the phone in Richie's hand. "It's just a song, right? And I'm braver than I think."

"Ridiculously brave," Richie agreed, leaning forward to kiss Eddie's forehead.

"It's just a song," Eddie repeated. Then he asked, "You want it to be our song? Because that's kind of fucked up. Just for the simple fact that I was getting _puked on by a leper_ the last time I heard it. It was blasting in my ears like he had it in surround sound."

"It's fucked up that we fought that fucking space clown at all," Richie told him. "It's fucked up that you associate this song with me and a girl I shared _one dance_ with and never talked to again."

Eddie's eyes were looking up at him, wide and searching. "You…only danced with her once?"

"Yeah," Richie said, shrugging. "I told you, no sparks. She…she even tried to kiss me while we were dancing, and I wouldn't let her." Richie scrunched up his face at the thought. "I didn't know if she was going to try and slip me the tongue or what, but just the thought of it kind of made _me_ feel sick to my stomach." It was Richie's turn to shiver before he added, "I never wanted to kiss anyone but you."

Eddie smiled, glancing down at the phone in Richie's hand. "Play it then."

"Are…are you sure?" Richie asked uncertainly. "I would never do anything to hurt you and…I'd never forgive myself if this did."

"Yeah," Eddie said, placing a warm hand atop Richie's. "Let's make it a good song for both of us, okay?"

"You're not going to puke, are you?"

"No. No, I'm good." Eddie took a deep breath before he added, "I probably would have if you'd played it when you first wanted to, but I think I'm accustomed enough to the idea now. Play it."

Richie paused momentarily before his tapped his phone, the beginning chords of _Angel of the Morning_ starting to play. He suddenly wasn't sure it was such a good idea, because Eddie's eyes clenched shut and he muttered, "Oh, fuck me."

Richie quickly set his phone down on the hood of his car, reaching out for Eddie a moment later. He took Eddie in his arms, wrapping them around his back tightly. "It's me," Richie reminded him. "Not a clown, not a leper, and not April McFucker either."

Eddie let out a soft breath of laughter against the front of Richie's shirt, relaxing into his arms. He tucked his head underneath Richie's chin, and it wasn't so much a dance as it was them just holding onto each as tightly as they had the night before after Richie's nightmare.

"You know," Richie said after the lyrics had started, "the first line of this song is rather fitting for you."

"'_There'll be no strings to bind your hands, not if my love can't bind your heart_'?" Eddie asked softly into Richie's shirt.

"Yeah," Richie replied. He pulled away slightly so that he could look down at Eddie. He reached up a hand to Eddie's chin, directed Eddie's gaze up towards his. "Don't ever let anyone or anything bind you ever again, okay?" he asked, shaking his head. "Not even my love. You've had enough of that, and that's not what I want from you."

Eddie sighed, wrapping his arms around Richie and squeezing tightly. "Why are you so good to me?" Eddie asked. The question was so quiet, Richie barely heard it.

"Because I love you," Richie told him. "And I've waited twenty-seven years for this. I'm not going to do anything to fuck this up." He took a moment to wrap his own arms around Eddie, running his fingers up and down the path of the scar on his back. Richie didn't quite know why he was so compelled to keep doing that, but he hoped that would, in some small way, convince Eddie that nothing about the scar was disgusting to him. That he loved all of Eddie and a scar didn't make one bit of difference.

"I know this isn't what love has been for you in the past," Richie said sadly. "It's been about control for you and…don't ever let me do that to you, okay? I don't think I'm capable of doing that, because I love you so much, but I don't ever want you to resent me like you resent your mother and Myra. So if you ever think I'm overstepping my bounds, just tell me to back the fuck off. I promise you won't hurt my feelings."

Richie could hear the smile in Eddie's voice as he said, "I will." Eddie laughed again then and said, "That's another thing I love about you. You won't lock yourself in the bathroom and cry for an hour because I tell you you're being a goddamned idiot."

"I _am_ a goddamned idiot," Richie agreed. "It took me twenty-seven years to realize we were both pining over each other."

"So that makes me an idiot too."

"As long as we're idiots together."

The smile was still present in Eddie's voice when he repeated, "Together."

It was ridiculous, the fact that they were there on the Kissing Bridge together, "dancing" to a song that once only held bad memories for Eddie. That held memories of dancing with a girl of all things for Richie. They were standing next to letters they had once carved into the weathered wooden boards with broken hearts, sure that they'd never have the one person they wanted more than anything in the world. And now here they were, like they were the only two people in the world.

Richie didn't know if he'd ever get used to that idea, but he hoped he never would.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: I listened to _Angel of the Morning _on stupid fucking repeat for three months (as one does) while I tried to think of a logical reason why it would have been playing during the pharmacy scene. I know it was a stupid gag that lasted a couple seconds, except it wasn't. This is what these movies have done to me. So there you have it, three months of plotting with an 80s song on repeat has led to this. No regrets._


	11. Chapter 11: Soulmates

**Brave  
**Chapter 11 – Soulmates

_Author's note: So um, this chapter was not supposed to happen. At all. There was not supposed to be this level of darkness and drama in my nice romantic Reddie fic, but it just occurred to me that the assholes who beat up Adrian and Don were never dealt with. This idea sprung into my mind, and I've never been one to shy away when my muse takes over, because I always love the results. Some of my readers have also expressed the desire for more drama, so here it is. Please, please be cautious before proceeding. As I've said, the assholes who beat up Adrian and Don make an appearance, so there will be homophobic language and a hate crime. Nothing as serious as what happened to Adrian and Don, but please tread carefully. I will put a summary of what happens in the end notes, so if you'd rather skip this chapter, you can._

_"__Well, that shit got dark fast."  
__~Richie, IT: Chapter Two_

* * *

When _Angel of the Morning_ had finished playing from Richie's phone, Eddie pushed himself up on tiptoes, wrapping his fingers in the front of Richie's sweatshirt. He pulled Richie down, kissing him fiercely. When Eddie pulled away, he was grinning up at Richie as he said, "I love you so much."

Richie's arms were comfortably wrapped around Eddie's waist, and he squeezed Eddie to him gently. It was Richie's turn to smile and he said, "I love you." Richie leaned down to kiss Eddie again, but just then, something caught his eye over the top of Eddie's head. Something that made Richie's blood run cold.

He didn't know the four men that were approaching, but he recognized them almost immediately. In fact, it was the smallest among them that made Richie so very clearly remember the sketches of the suspects that had been printed in the paper last week. Richie thought the paper said this man's name was Chris, but…he wasn't even a man. He was a _boy_. Richie wasn't sure why the acne and the sparse facial hair in the sketch hadn't clued him into that fact, but he looked to be about fifteen or sixteen at the very most. How in the fucking world did someone so young get involved in _beating up_ someone? In a fucking _hate crime_?

Because these were the men who had beaten up Adrian and Don. Richie had never been more sure of anything in his life – except maybe for the fact that he loved Eddie more than anything else in the world.

Richie was pulled from his thoughts when he realized Eddie was talking to him, looking up at him in confusion.

"Rich?"

"Shit," Richie said, gently pushing Eddie away from him. "Get in the car."

"_What_?"

"_Get in the fucking car_!" Richie said urgently. "Do as I say. _Please_."

Eddie appeared as if he was about to argue or ask more questions, but then his eyes met with Richie's. It only took a moment before Eddie understood completely, reading his eyes and the expression on Richie's face almost immediately.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Eddie stared at the four people who were approaching, but then he got moving a few seconds later. Eddie stumbled over a few stones on the ground, but Richie reached out, grabbing him by the arm and steadying him before he lost his balance entirely. Richie still didn't relinquish his hold on Eddie, guiding him back to the passenger's side of the car, keeping his eyes up and on the men who were still closing in on them.

"Rich," Eddie began again, but Richie didn't give him a chance to complete his thought.

"Go!" Richie cried, fear pooling in his stomach. His limbs felt funny all of a sudden, tingling with fear and beginning to shake uncontrollably. He only hoped that he wouldn't end up puking in front of these morons, because that would only add fuel to the fire that he knew was about to rain down on them.

The four approaching figures weren't that far away anymore, and Richie wasn't so sure he could get Eddie in the car and still have time to get back around to his side so he could get them the hell out of there. If only Richie had seen them sooner, if only Richie hadn't been so stupid to do this sort of thing in fucking public.

But damnit. Richie was sick of hiding. He'd spent nearly his entire life pretending he wasn't gay. Pretending that he didn't have feelings for his best friend. Pretending he was straight when that couldn't be further from the truth. Richie was finally coming to embrace that part of himself that he had spent so very long hiding from, because Jesus Christ, he had Eddie fucking Kaspbrak and he was happier than he'd been in forever. Was it really that horrible that Richie finally had the love of his life and simply wanted to kiss him in public? What great crime had he committed for wanting to engage in a stupid public display of affection with the man he was in love with?

Richie knew they were both in danger, but there was no way in hell Richie was going to put his life above Eddie's. He was going to get Eddie safely into the car first, and whatever happened to Richie, he would deal with. Eddie had already given enough of himself to save Richie. He had nearly lost his own life to keep Richie safe – had only just gotten out of the hospital _the day before_ because of it – and Richie was determined to not let that happen again. It was time for Richie to put his own life on the line for person he loved most in the world.

It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. Richie's feet felt like they were stuck in molasses as he ushered Eddie's towards the passenger's side of the car. Richie had his hand against the small of Eddie's back, trying his best to urge him forward, but no matter how hard and fast Richie tried to move, it almost seemed like he was frozen in place. Why then, did it seem like the four men were closing in on them with ridiculous speed?

At long last, they made it to the passenger's side of the car, and Richie wrenched the door open. He made sure Eddie was safely inside before he said, "Lock the door."

Eddie started to say something in response, but Richie closed the door, cutting him off. Richie then rounded the hood of the car and reached out for the handle on his side, but he didn't quite make it.

Something collided with Richie's chest, knocking the air out of his lungs and knocking him off balance. Richie stumbled backwards, his arm reaching out for the hood of the car to try and steady himself. He managed to catch it just in time before he fell on his ass.

"What is it with this shithole town and the way it attracts you faggots?"

The man who had spoken, who had shoved Richie was the largest among the four men, but Richie didn't think he was bigger than Eddie. He was rather surly and still towered over the three others he was with, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that they might gravitate towards him. This man also had a stupid Meg Ryan-looking haircut. Richie briefly glanced up into this man's blue eyes, but then Richie diverted his gaze away.

Richie didn't quite know how to respond. Under normal circumstances, Richie would have made a smartass comment, would have asked who the hell got this kind of haircut in this day and age, but he found himself shocked into silence. Richie had done nothing but try and protect himself from this sort of shit. His entire life, he had been _terrified_ of ending up in a position like this, and now despite his best efforts to the contrary, here he was. It was being thrust upon him almost before he had a chance to process it.

How in the hell had Richie gotten here? Everything with Eddie had happened so fast, but it still felt so nice, so comfortable. Even though he technically wasn't out yet, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to want to kiss and hug Eddie. It almost hadn't occurred to Richie that he probably shouldn't have been doing so on a public fucking bridge.

"What's the matter?" the man asked Richie.

Richie was leaning awkwardly against the hood of his car, still afraid that he'd lose his balance if he let go. From his current position, it made the man in front of Richie just a bit taller, and he was leaning down into Richie's face, waiting for an answer.

"None of you faggots seem to want to talk about how disgusting you are."

Richie was frozen to his spot. Why in god's name couldn't he think of anything to say in response? Why didn't he try and steady himself and push this asshole away? Richie was bigger than he was, so he could probably overpower him. Then again, there were four of them and only one of Richie. The three other men weren't currently involved in the scuffle; they were only looking on and if Richie decided to fight back, the four other men could probably hand his ass to him.

At least Eddie was safely locked inside the car. Richie didn't really care what they did to him, just as long as Eddie was safe. Just then, however, Richie's heart seemed to leap into his chest when he heard the car door open behind him.

"Leave him alone," Eddie said firmly.

Holy shit, Richie didn't think he had ever heard Eddie sound so unwavering, at least not when they were being confronted with danger like this. Richie had been expecting Eddie's voice to be quivering, but it was steadier than Richie thought he had ever heard it. Next, Richie could hear the gravel crunching underneath Eddie's shoes as he came around the car, and this made Richie's heart explode with fear.

"I told you to stay in the car!" Richie snapped at him, because Jesus Christ, Eddie was not going to do this. Eddie was still healing, still recovering, and he was not going to get his stitches ripped out, or god knew what and end up back in the hospital. He wasn't.

The man with the stupid haircut looked back at Richie, his eyes glinting in amusement. "Do you tell him when you're going dick him down in bed too?" he asked.

All at once, Richie could feel his hand curling up into a fist at his side. He had found his footing, pushing himself away from the car and standing up straight to make himself seem as imposing as possible. Before he could scarcely even process what he was doing, Richie's hand had flown forward, landing a punch squarely in the man's jaw. The man went flying backwards, landing on his ass, his blue eyes blinking up at Richie in confusion. It was like he couldn't believe that someone had decided to stand up to him.

Truth be told, neither could Richie. Shit, this wasn't who he was; he didn't just go around punching people, but god help whoever decided to speak about Eddie in such a way. It would be the last thing they did if Richie had anything to say about it, because _Richie_ was the only one allowed to make such jokes at Eddie's expense.

"Shit," Eddie murmured at Richie's shoulder, staring down at the man on the ground.

That, however, only succeeded at putting Richie and Eddie in between the car and the three other men who were still on their feet. One of them immediately reached out for Eddie, grabbing his arms and pulling them behind his back. Richie could see Eddie grimacing in pain, then biting at his bottom lip, like he was trying not to make any sounds.

Richie reached out for him, but the other man had already pulled Eddie too far away from him. Richie wanted to tell them to leave Eddie alone, because he still had very serious injuries, but in the end, Richie decided against it; it was probably for the best to not let these assholes know that Eddie was already slightly incapacitated.

"Take your hands off him," Richie said instead, taking a few steps closer to Eddie and the man who was tugging him away.

A moment later, the fourth man was behind Richie, tugging his hands behind his back as well. "I hardly think you're in a position to be giving _us_ orders," the man muttered in Richie's ear.

Richie tried to pull away, tugging his arms firmly, but the man had a secure hold on them.

Meanwhile, Chris was helping the man with the stupid Meg Ryan haircut up off the ground. Richie had apparently split the man's lip when he'd punched him, a thin trickle of blood beading down his chin.

"Are you okay, Webby?" Chris asked, tugging him up by the arm.

"_Webby_?" Richie asked around a snort, unable to stop himself. "Wait, are you named after that cute little character on _Ducktales_? You know, with the pink bow and dress?"

"_Richie_," Eddie said warningly from his right.

Out of the corner of his eye, Richie could still see Eddie struggling against the man who was holding him. Richie's heart thudded hard against his ribs, but he would try his hardest to try and keep the attention off of Eddie. The more Richie drew the attention to himself, the less likely they would be to hurt Eddie. They'd just hurt Richie, and as scared as that made him, Richie wouldn't let anything happen to Eddie ever again.

Webby closed in on Richie, standing up straighter and apparently trying to make himself seem more imposing than he really was. It might have worked if not for his stupid ass haircut, and Richie had to forcibly control himself to not laugh in the man's ridiculous face.

"Who do you think you are, _faggot_?" Webby asked, placing his hands on Richie's chest and shoving him backwards against the man behind him.

This seemed to excite Chris, because he clapped his hands together, his eyes darting between Richie and Webby. It was like he was watching some silly, inconsequential sports game and not a fucking hate crime take place right in front of him.

"Come on, fuck him up," Chris said, egging Webby on.

Richie blinked at the youngest of the bullies, because this was possibly one of the most absurd things he had ever seen in his life. "What are you doing, Chris?" Richie asked him, genuinely curious. "How did you get mixed up with these assholes?"

Chris faltered, a frown overtaking his face while he stared at Richie.

"Yeah, I know who you are," Richie told him. "I would have thought that you'd want to keep a low profile considering the fact that you guys are already wanted for one hate crime." Richie's eyes flashed to Webby before he said, "Or do you guys make a habit out of being assholes? My mistake."

"Just trying to clean up the streets in this shithole town," Webby said, pushing himself up on tiptoes to get into Richie's face. "Way too many of you fairies around. I don't know what it is about this place that attracts you."

"Then what the _fuck_ are you doing here?" Richie snapped. "Talk about this town being a shithole."

Webby's eyes flashed and Richie barely had time to react before a fist was pummeled into his stomach. Richie hunched forward as all the air left his lungs. He coughed, then quickly sucked in another breath of air. Again, Richie tried to tug his arms away from the man who was holding them, but they didn't budge. Richie didn't think he even had enough energy left after having all the air knocked out of him.

"Stop it!" Eddie yelled. Then he started kicking his legs up, doubling his efforts to get away from his bully.

Richie grimaced, both from the ache that had started throbbing in his stomach and at Eddie's renewed efforts. Richie would take all the punches these assholes had to throw and more if it meant keeping Eddie safe, but of course his fiery little Eds couldn't leave well enough alone.

Webby rounded on Eddie then, grinning at the fact that Eddie wasn't getting anywhere. "What are you going to do about it?" Webby asked, looking down his nose at Eddie.

It looked like Webby was about to draw back and punch Eddie too, so Richie muttered, "If you fucking touch him, I will _end_ you." He kept tugging at the man who was holding him to no avail.

Richie just didn't watch Eddie claw his way back to life only to have this group of assholes ruin all his efforts. Eddie had survived being stabbed by a fucking _demon_ of all things, and Richie wasn't going to lose him to a goddamn bigot. Just one punch could open Eddie's stitches, spilling his blood all over once again and setting back all the healing he had done. There was no way in hell Richie was about to let that happen. Not now, not ever.

Webby looked back over his shoulder at Richie, grinning in a way that almost reminded Richie of that fucking clown. This caused a shiver to run through Richie, but at the same time, he was glad; at least this grin was directed at him and not at Eddie. If Richie didn't know any better, he might have thought that It was still alive, but no. It was simply the cruel nature of some people who seemed to think that beating up anyone they didn't like made them better than the rest of the world.

"Yeah?" Webby asked, suddenly closing back in on Richie. "Well, the two of you are _vastly_ outnumbered, so I'm not sure what you _think_ you're going to do other than get your asses kicked."

Another one of Webby's fists flew out, and this one caught the corner of Richie's mouth. A burst of pain exploded through his jaw and almost immediately, Richie could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. His glasses had also become dislodged on his face, slipping down his nose on the sheen of sweat that had formed there.

Richie tilted his head back quickly, attempting to hitch his glasses back up on his nose, but a moment later, they were gone altogether. Webby had grabbed them off his face and tossed them, laughing as a blur of black flew across Richie's field of vision.

"You won't be needing those," Webby told him.

This caused Richie's heartbeat to increase again, because he was plunged into world of fog and blobs of color. He hadn't even thought about what he would do if they took his glasses, because Richie couldn't even see to find his way out of a goddamned paper bag without them.

"_Rich_," Eddie hissed at him.

Richie's eyes darted to him, and he could tell that Eddie was trying to mouth something to him, but for all the good it did. Richie was lucky he could even tell he was looking at Eddie, but at least there was no mistaking the red hoodie he was wearing that day.

God, Eddie looked good in red. In fact, it was that red windbreaker of his that made Richie's feelings for Eddie come slamming back to him in full force in the Jade of the Orient. The color that made him remember those cute little red shorts that Eddie had worn in his childhood that had done unspeakable things to Richie. But then Richie shook his head, trying to get his mind back to the matter at hand. This was no time to be thinking about how hot Eddie was.

Eddie was still struggling, his legs kicking out again and desperately trying to free his hands from behind his back.

"Hold him, Steve!" Webby yelled at the man behind Eddie.

"He's not going anywhere," Steve said around a laugh. Richie could tell he was tugging on Eddie more tightly, Eddie jerking back sharply.

"And you're asking for it," Richie spat out, narrowing his eyes in Steve's direction.

"I'm _fine_, Rich," Eddie insisted. "I didn't get _stabbed_ twice just to succumb to these losers."

Even without his glasses, Richie could see Eddie's large brown eyes staring at him, boring into him, but he had no idea what Eddie was getting at. Why would Eddie be reminding him of the fact that he had been _stabbed_?

And then it hit Richie all once, and he felt like a royal dumbass that Eddie had to remind him of it at all. If only Richie had a moment without Webby watching him like a hawk, but Eddie had already taken care of that too.

"You think you're so tough because you got _stabbed_?" Webby asked Eddie, closing in on him once again. He laughed before he added, "Because a stab wound is _nothing_ compared to what we're about to do with you."

Richie took his chance, putting everything, every single last ounce of energy he had into tearing out of his captor's grip. He briefly thought back to when he and Bill had dragged Eddie out of the sewer, wondering where that burst of seemingly superhuman strength had come from. But then it was there again, lit by the fact that Richie would be damned before he let them hurt a hair on Eddie's head.

Richie dug his hand down into the pocket of his jeans and twisted around, successfully breaking out of the man's grasp. A moment later, Richie's fingers closed around his pocket knife and he wrenched it out of his pants, pulling it open.

Chris quickly stumbled away, as did the man who had been holding onto Richie.

"Shit," Chris said, "he's got a knife, man."

Webby turned around, his eyes going down to the knife in Richie's hand.

"I've already killed one guy in this shithole town," Richie bit out, trying his very best to put as much menace into his voice as possible. He tightened his grip on his knife, raising it up towards Webby's face. "You want to try for two? Or how about five?" he added, looking around at the group of bullies. "Because I have no problem with that."

Webby put his hands up into the air, taking a few steps backwards. "No. No, it's cool." He glanced back over his shoulder at Steve and said, "Let him go."

A moment later, the man released Eddie, and he immediately joined Richie at his side. Eddie's breath was slightly hard and fast, but nowhere near as bad as Richie had heard it in the past. Jesus Christ, he couldn't believe how brave Eddie was proving himself to be time and time again. Did Eddie even realize what he had just done?

Even though the bullies were backing off, Richie took the time to step in front of Eddie. Richie held his knife out even farther in front of him, watching as the assholes made their way to the other end of the Kissing Bridge.

God, the Kissing Bridge where Richie thought he and Eddie were going to have a wonderful, romantic day together. And they had until it all went to hell. Until shit started coming down on Richie just like he had been waiting for. Like he'd been waiting for ever since he found out that Eddie was going to be okay and in fact loved him back. This was the other shoe dropping. There it was. Finally.

All at once, Richie realized that the hand he was holding his knife in was shaking uncontrollably. It hit him like a ton of bricks exactly what had happened, and that familiar feeling clenched around his stomach again. He turned away from Eddie and vomited up the contents of his stomach, which amounted to the bagel, cream cheese, and coffee he had consumed that morning.

"Rich," Eddie said, placing his on Richie's back.

Richie rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air and closing his eyes against the second wave of nausea that rose up in his stomach. Richie pressed a hand over his mouth, fighting down the feeling. He was at least grateful that he hadn't puked in front of the bullies, because that would have gone over well when he was trying to scare them away with a knife.

"Are you okay?" Eddie asked, rubbing his hands up and down Richie's back.

Richie nodded, slowly straightening up. He turned and wrapped his arms around Eddie, because they only thing he wanted in that moment was to hold him. To feel Eddie warm, and breathing, and alive in his arms.

"Are _you_ okay?" Richie asked next.

He could feel Eddie nodding against him as he said, "Yeah, I think so."

"Fuck," Richie said, pulling away from Eddie and glancing around. "Do you see my glasses? Cause I can't see shit. You're lucky you're so small, because that's the only way I can tell it's you."

"Um," Eddie hummed in response, glancing around. "Yeah, they're here."

As Eddie went to retrieve his glasses, Richie replaced his knife in his pocket and pressed his other hand against the side of his mouth. Richie flinched away at the burning sensation that flared up there, and as blind as he currently was, he could still see the bright red blood that had pooled on his finger when he pulled it away.

"Here," Eddie said, returning to his side. He replaced Richie's glasses on his nose and said, "They're still in one piece."

Richie wanted to check Eddie's stitches, to make sure that none of them had been popped, but he thought it was more prudent to get to safety first. "Let's get back in the car before those assholes come back," he said, placing a hand on the small of Eddie's back and guiding him back around the car.

Once he got Eddie situated in the passenger's seat and got the door locked, Richie retrieved his cell phone from where it was still sitting on the hood of the car. Richie had set it there while they had been "dancing" to _Angel of the Morning_, a moment that now seemed so very far away. Had that only happened a mere twenty minutes ago?

When Richie slid into the driver's seat and locked his own door, he immediately turned to Eddie. He reached out, pushing Eddie's hoodie and t-shirt up out of the way.

"You're _sure_ you're okay?" Richie asked. He leaned forward, checking that none of Eddie's bandages around his abdomen showed any signs of blood. "They didn't pop any of your stitches, did they?"

Eddie shook his head. "I don't think so. I didn't feel anything come loose."

"I don't see any blood," Richie said, running his hands up and down the bandages to check for dampness as well. He gently pushed Eddie forward, then repeated the process on his back before he concluded, "I think you're okay."

"_You're_ bleeding," Eddie said, glancing up at the trail of blood making its way down Richie's chin.

"It's just a bloody lip," Richie said nonchalantly, trying to brush it off.

"Here," Eddie said. He retrieved his toiletry bag from where he had placed it by his feet on the floor of the car. Eddie had brought it, so he would have his painkillers and extra bandages in case he needed them. Richie had teased him about it at the time, telling Eddie that they weren't going on a ten mile hike through the woods, but Eddie had insisted on bringing it.

Richie pushed down the urge to make a smartass comment, because now Richie really was thankful for Eddie's foresight.

Eddie withdrew a piece of gauze from a plastic bag, folding it up into a little square. He placed his hand on Richie's chin, directing Richie's face towards him. Eddie used the gauze to dab at the blood on Richie's chin and along the corner of his mouth.

"Is your stomach okay?" Eddie asked. "That asshole punched you."

Richie nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his erratically beating heart. "It's a little sore," he told Eddie, "but it's okay."

All of a sudden, Richie's brain seemed to catch up with what had happened, and it occurred to him that he had something much more important to do than to worry about his own injuries. He reached for his phone which he had set on his thigh, immediately pressing 911 into the keypad.

"Who're you calling?" Eddie asked.

"The fucking police," Richie said, glancing at Eddie out of the corner of his eye. His eyes then went back to the windshield, checking to make sure that the bullies in question weren't coming back. "I'm sure they'd like to know that the suspects in a fucking _hate crime_ tried to pull the same shit again."

"Rich…" Eddie began, but then he stopped, not wanting to talk over Richie's phone call. But he was still staring at Richie questioningly.

"Yes," Richie said into his phone once his call had been answered, "I'd like to report a sighting of the suspects in the Adrian Mellon and Dog Hagarty hate crime. They're just leaving Bassey Park in Derry Township."

In the end, Richie chose not to give his name to the police or to specify exactly what had gone on. As much as Richie wanted those fucking assholes to pay for what they'd done – not just to Adrian and Don, but to Eddie as well – Richie had to remind himself of the fact that he wasn't even out yet. While it didn't seem like Webby and his goons had recognized him, Richie still wasn't keen on getting his name thrown around as the victim in a hate crime.

Was that selfish? Putting his career above making sure those assholes got caught? Probably, but Richie only hoped that he had done enough to make sure their luck ran out.

"Rich, I don't understand," Eddie said once Richie hung up the phone. Eddie was still watching him wide-eyed.

It occurred to Richie that most of what he knew about Don and Adrian had happened while Eddie had been sleeping, so Richie quickly explained everything, from the initial hate crime to the articles that had been in the newspaper.

"Fuck, Rich," Eddie muttered. He leaned back in his seat, staring straight ahead at the windshield. "I'm so fucking sorry." He shook his head against the headrest.

"What…?" Richie started to ask, but then he stopped. He leaned forward, reaching a hand out for Eddie's, gripping it tightly inside his. "What the fuck are you sorry for? You were a victim in all of this as much as I was."

"Because," Eddie said firmly, turning his head and holding Richie's gaze. Richie could see him swallowing before he said, "They never would have had a reason to attack us if I hadn't been stupid enough to kiss you in public." Eddie pulled his hand from Richie, then covered his face.

"Eddie," Richie said, pulling Eddie's hands away from his face. "Hey," he added, waiting until Eddie glanced at him again. Richie shook his head. "I'm the one that brought you here. I'm the one who was stupid enough to think that the Kissing Bridge would be a quiet and safe enough place for us to…be _us_. And I certainly didn't have a problem with kissing you in public. _They_ did." All of a sudden, Richie could feel the stress and anger of the last half hour building up in him. He clenched his teeth together and muttered, "Jesus Christ, this world is fucked up."

Richie's breathing had grown hard, and he could feel tears burning at his eyes again. It had been such a glorious few weeks, spending time with Eddie and falling into a comfortable routine with him. Those days spent in the hospital where he had cried his eyes out, worried sick over Eddie, had seemed so very far away…until now. Until these assholes had appeared and slammed Richie back to earth.

Richie snaked his fingers under his glasses, rubbing at the tears that had formed on his eyelashes, then he slammed his foot down onto the floor of the car. "It's fucked up that I can't even show my boyfriend the place where I first expressed my love for him. It's fucked up that I can't even _kiss you_ or _hold your hand in public_ without having to look over our shoulders."

Silence settled into the car during which Eddie reached over the console, threading his fingers through Richie's own once more.

"You called me your boyfriend," Eddie said quietly.

Richie blinked, then quickly glanced at Eddie. "I…yeah," Richie admitted, swallowing hard. "Is…that not what you are?"

"Yeah, it is," Eddie replied warmly, tightening his fingers around Richie's. "At least, I hope it is. You just never said it before. And technically, I think what we are goes well beyond boyfriends at this point, but I don't think there's a word for that."

Richie paused for a long time before he said, "Soulmates, Eds. I think that's the word you want."

Eddie looked up at him, and if Richie wasn't mistaken, he thought he could see the faintest glint of tears in his eyes. "Are we?" Eddie asked uncertainly.

Richie exhaled softly. "After nearly thirty years, you're going to ask that? I think that qualifies us for the title of 'soulmates', yes."

Frowning deeply, Eddie looked back through the windshield, to the boards of the Kissing Bridge just beyond. Where everything had seemed perfect just a half an hour before. "Just…I don't know," Eddie muttered.

"You don't know what?" Richie's heart skipped a beat, then seemed to lodge itself into his throat. Had he said too much? Had he said the wrong thing? Was dropping the word 'soulmates' too much for Eddie and their fledging relationship?

"I told you," Eddie said, raising his eyes to Richie's once more. "I'm still waiting for this to…fall apart. I'm waiting to wake up and find out this isn't real. For you to tell me that you made a massive mistake and you think it's better if we _don't_ explore this. That shit like this is too much trouble to-"

Richie reached out, placing a hand on Eddie's cheek and turning his head gently. Before Eddie could respond, Richie leaned over the center console, kissing Eddie deeply before he could continue on his rant.

When Richie broke the kiss, Eddie was staring at him, breath warm against Richie's lips. Then Eddie pushed him away, making a disgusted face. Richie's heart thudded again, and he knew he had gone too far. Eddie simply wasn't ready for this talk of soulmates just yet. Richie was about to begin backpedaling, but a moment later, Eddie assuaged his fears.

"Fuck, I love you, but you taste like puke," Eddie complained, "_and_ your mouth was bleeding. You're gross, dude."

Richie laughed gently before he said, "Well, let's get this much straight – I love you too. More than anyone or anything in this entire world, and I'd walk through fucking fire for you. Yeah, it fucking sucks that people like this exist in the world-" Richie gestured towards the windshield, "-but it's not going to scare me away from this. I'm not going to let a bunch of assholes take away the one thing I want most in my life, and that one thing is you. Okay?" Richie rubbed his palm over Eddie's cheek, reveling in the feel of Eddie's stubble against his skin. "Your huge ass wife isn't going to scare me away and neither are a bunch of bigots. What can I do to make you believe that? Do I have to kill another fucking space clown for you again? I'm sorry, but that's kind of where I draw the line."

Eddie let out a soft breath of laughter before he leaned forward, pressing his head into Richie's shoulder. "You were really going to stab those guys," he mumbled into Richie's sweatshirt.

"Only if they hurt you," Richie said, hugging Eddie against him. "They better be fucking glad they backed off, because I could have fucked them up, just like I fucked up that clown." Richie paused for a moment before he said, "But Jesus, look at you." Richie pulled away, placing his hands on Eddie's shoulders and staring at him. "You didn't even get short of breath. You never even _thought_ about needing your inhaler, did you?"

Eddie blinked, like he hadn't even realized exactly what he had done. "I…I was just thinking about you," Eddie told him. "Just like when I threw that fencepost at Pennywise – the only thing that mattered was you. I didn't have time to think about myself."

"You're so fucking brave," Richie said proudly. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there to remind me that I had my knife in my fucking pocket. I was too scared to even think straight."

"You were brave too," Eddie said, kissing the corner of Richie's mouth that hadn't been bleeding. "You never hesitate to stick up for me, even when you are scared."

"Cause you're the most important thing in the world to me," Richie told him, kissing the tip of Eddie's nose. "Please know that. But let's get the fuck out of here, okay?"

Eddie nodded as Richie took the car out of park and put it into gear.

"What are you going to tell the others?" Eddie asked tentatively as Richie began the drive back to the inn. "About your lip?"

Richie didn't answer Eddie, because he had no idea what he was going to do. Richie didn't know if he should just cut his losses and be honest about himself and about what had happened, or if he should continue to cover it up like he had for his entire life. Ben already knew part of it, so telling him the rest of it wasn't that much of a stretch. It was just coming out to the others that still scared him. Still made his blood run cold almost as much as it had when he had seen those bullies approaching them.

Richie just didn't know.

About the only thing that Richie was positive about was that he wanted Eddie in his life forever, and if it was the last thing he did, he would somehow get Eddie to believe that. That he wasn't about to give up on the best thing that had ever happened to him just because shit got hard. Just because there were assholes in the world that were hellbent on making their lives miserable.

Richie reached across the console for Eddie's hand, rubbing his thumb over Eddie's ring finger. The place where, until recently, Eddie had worn his wedding band that was now floating down the Kenduskeag somewhere.

Just then, something caught Richie's eye – a store that he remembered passing time and time again as child. He would definitely have to remember that for later.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: The assholes who beat up Adrian and Don confront Richie and Eddie on the Kissing Bridge. Slurs and punches are thrown before Richie scares them away with his pocket knife. Richie and Eddie get to safety, and Richie calls the police to report the assholes._


	12. Chapter 12: Lucky

_Author's note: Richie and Eddie start getting a little frisky with each other at the end of the chapter. Nothing crazy, just making out and some light above-the-waist petting, but just so you guys aren't suprised by it. :)_

**Brave  
**Chapter 12 – Lucky

When he parked his car in front of the inn and turned off the motor, Richie examined his bloody lip in the rearview mirror. He immediately winced away, because there was absolutely no way he'd be able to hide his injury from the rest of the Losers now; the corner of his mouth was swollen and bright red around the deep maroon of the bloody cut that had opened up there.

"Fuck," Richie muttered, pressing his fingers against the puffy skin. "Bastard did a number on me, didn't he? I hope his face looks even worse. Even though it already did with that fucking Meg Ryan-looking haircut."

Eddie was oddly quiet next to him, so Richie glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Eddie's head was bowed, and he was frowning deeply down into his lap.

"Would you be offended if I told everyone you got pissed off and punched me?" Richie asked. He had meant it as a joke, but only awkward silence met his ears.

Eddie didn't reply right away, but kept his head down, his frown deepening. "If that's what you want to tell people…" he began, but then trailed off, shrugging.

Richie shook his head and replied, "No, that was a stupid thing to say." Heaving a breath, Richie stared out of his window, wondering when in the hell this tenseness had settled over him and Eddie. Richie wasn't sure what it was, but it felt like he could cut it with a knife, and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Things hadn't felt like this, even right after those assholes had attacked them. This feeling had grown to consume them somewhere on the drive back from the Kissing Bridge, and goddamn it, Richie just wanted it to go away. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. Not for them.

Richie rested his elbow on the armrest on his door, then he pressed his hand against his forehead and closed his eyes. He desperately wished that things could go back to the way they were just that very morning. When he and Eddie had been arguing over the way they liked their coffee. When Eddie had told him he loved him and kissed him fiercely. When he had been holding Eddie on the Kissing Bridge, feeling like everything was right with the world, just before those assholes had shown up.

"Look, Rich," Eddie said after nearly a minute. "Maybe…I don't know. Maybe we should just tell them."

Richie pulled his hand away from his face, glancing quickly at Eddie.

"And I hate suggesting it like this," Eddie added hastily. "Because it shouldn't be something you feel like you _have_ to do. It shouldn't be something you feel _pressured_ into. It shouldn't be something those bastards _make_ you do. I just…I can't help thinking that it would help if we could be open with them about this."

"Yeah," Richie agreed before he added, "if they don't fucking hate my guts in the process."

"They're not going to hate you," Eddie said, laying a soft hand on Richie's arm. "I don't. Ben doesn't. My nurse, James didn't."

"Those bastards do."

"Those bastards are fucking trash that don't even know you. They're about as reliable as Bowers here."

"I know, I know," Richie muttered, running his hands through his hair. "I just…fuck." He leaned his head forward slightly, then slammed it back against the headrest in frustration. "I just want to _be_ with you. Why does that have to be such a fucking issue? It shouldn't even be anyone else's business but ours. Ben and Bev decide they're madly in love with each other, and no one bats an eye, but just because we're two dudes, all fucking hell breaks loose. This is exactly what I was afraid of and why I hid the truth for so long. Because I didn't think I'd ever be ready for this shit."

Eddie withdrew his hand from Richie's arm, pulling it into his lap and staring down at it again.

"Christ, Eds, I'm sorry," Richie said. "I'm being an asshole." If Eddie was already questioning Richie's commitment to him, then Richie talking about how he hadn't really been ready for all of this wasn't going to make him feel any better.

Eddie shook his head. "You're angry. So am I, and we have every right to be."

"And that doesn't mean I don't still want this," Richie said firmly. He turned in his seat towards Eddie, reaching out and taking one of Eddie's hands in his. He held it firmly for a moment before he said, "Yeah, I'm fucking terrified of all the shit we're going to have to face together, but…that's how I want to take them on – _together_. I've been scared of this shit for almost thirty years, ever since I first realized I had feelings for you. You think I haven't imagined all of this and worse when I lay awake at night?" Richie shook his head, squeezing Eddie's hand even more tightly. "None of it ever made me stop wanting you."

Eddie's frown momentarily deepened, and Richie thought he caught that glimmer of tears in his eyes again. Eddie pulled his hand out of Richie's, then he leaned forward, burying his head in Richie's shoulder. He brought his arms up next, wrapping his hands around the back of Richie's neck.

Richie thought Eddie wanted to hug him more, but he couldn't quite get his arms up that much without pulling at his stitches. So Richie snaked his arms around Eddie's back, pulling him against him gently.

"I promise, Eds," Richie whispered. "_Nothing_ anyone can do could make me stop loving you or wanting you. Not even Pennywise could, and he was the scariest fucking thing on the face of the planet."

Eddie didn't respond, but Richie felt his hands briefly squeezing at the back of his neck.

"All right," Richie said when he started to break the hug. He pulled back until he could see Eddie's eyes. "You want to tell them? Let's tell them."

Eddie suddenly shook his head frantically. "Rich…I only want to do this if you're sure. You know I would never push you do something like this. This needs to be your decision and not anyone else's."

Richie nodded. "I know," he said, bringing up his hand to cup Eddie's cheek. "But I think you're right. It's going to be a lot easier if we don't feel like we have to hide this from them. There's really never going to be a more opportune chance to tell them, because I don't really want to lie to them about why I have a fucking fat lip. I just…don't want to lie anymore. And I know they won't hate me. I know." Richie sat back in his seat, staring out the windshield and taking a deep breath. "Ben didn't. I know the others won't either." He closed his eyes, mustering up his courage and pushing down every fear that that fucking space clown had ever tried to feed him.

"No, they won't," Eddie agreed softly. "Just like we didn't judge Ben for being overweight, or Stan for being Jewish, or you guys didn't judge me for being a hypochondriacal mess with mommy issues up the ass."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong," Richie disagreed. "We did judge you for that, you fucking Norman Bates wannabe."

"Shut _up_," Eddie muttered, swatting playfully at Richie's shoulder. "No, you didn't, because that's not what our friendship is about. Never has been, never will be. That's why we became friends in the first place – because we found the love and acceptance with each other that we never had anywhere else."

Richie sought out Eddie's hand in his and gave him a firm smile. "I know," Richie agreed. "And I'm never going to feel more ready for this than I do right now." He closed his eyes once again, still trying to push those last errant doubts out of his mind. "I'm tired of keeping this from them. I'm tired of hiding who the hell I really am, because it's fucking exhausting." When he opened his eyes, he held Eddie's gaze. "I want to be me."

Pausing for a moment, Richie considered his words before he said, "When it's just us, I can be myself completely, and I love you for that. But I want to be myself with them too."

"Me too."

Eddie kept his hand tucked inside Richie's as they made their way up the sidewalk towards the townhouse. Even though Richie's resolve had honestly never been stronger, a tiny part of him hoped that they rest of the Losers would be nowhere in sight. Maybe Ben and Bev would be out having a romantic afternoon of their own, and Mike would be back at the library like normal.

Unfortunately, when Richie and Eddie entered the inn, they could see Beverly, Ben, and even Mike gathered around the bar, playing cards and laughing about something. It made Richie briefly wonder how anyone could be happy with so much shit going on in the world. Because this had been a pretty shitty day for him, all things considered.

Richie then hoped that maybe no one would even notice his swollen lip, and he'd have no reason to bring up the subject in the first place. Even though Richie knew that everyone who even took one good look at him would see it.

"Richie, oh my god," Beverly immediately said when Richie and Eddie got to the doorway to the lounge. "What happened to you?" She was on her feet a moment later, joining them in the doorway, and pressing her hands to Richie's cheeks. She leaned up on her toes, examining his injury.

Bev could always be counted on.

"Um," Richie spat out, not even sure how to get this conversation started. He could vaguely still feel Eddie's hand still inside his, and the absolutely crazy thing was that none of the others seemed to notice or care. Maybe Eddie was right after all; maybe they could see this coming a mile away.

Richie's eyes went past Beverly and he focused first on Mike and then on Ben. Ben's own gaze was intense, watching Richie closely and seeming to understand in just a few moments. He gave Richie a brief but encouraging smile.

"Yeah," Richie said, still stalling. "Actually, let me get a drink first, and then we'll fucking tell you everything. Even about how I fucked Eddie's mom."

"Dude, shut the fuck up," Eddie muttered. "We don't want the gory details of that, believe me."

Richie had made his way over to the back of the bar, grabbing a clean glass and filling it halfway up with bourbon. Richie downed a good portion of the glass before slamming it back down on the bar. Then he made his way back around to the other side of the bar and sat down heavily on the one of the stools.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and he tried to push away the thought that they were silently judging him. Because those were thoughts that Pennywise had put in his head. Richie finished off the rest of his drink, then cautiously looked around the room.

Eddie had taken the seat on Richie's right, and Bev sat down on the other side of Richie, still watching him in concern. Ben was on the other side of the bar, leaning on it, his eyes never leaving Richie's. Mike was seated at the very end of the bar.

"I sort of really wish Bill was here for this," Richie said, still not quite ready to delve into the matter just yet. "But I'm glad the rest of you are. Um. Because I have something to tell you that has been a long time coming."

Richie leaned back in his seat and stared at his now empty glass, at the very last drops of the amber liquid forming a small puddle in the bottom. Richie really wished he could meet the others' eyes and wasn't so fixated on his glass, but try as he might, he couldn't quite lift his gaze. That little circle of bourbon in the bottom of his glass sort of made Richie wish it would grow and drown him completely.

Rubbing his hands up and down the thighs of his jeans, Richie thought about when he had come out to Ben. How simple Ben had made it for him, and that was what finally made Richie look up. He held Ben's eyes, telling himself that he was just coming out to Ben again. Just Ben, this time with Eddie by his side.

Richie took a deep breath before he said, "In all honesty, I never even wanted to fuck Eddie's mom." Richie paused, almost waiting for someone to insert a joke, to take away some of strangling fear he felt in that moment, but no one did. Richie wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or not.

"All right," Richie muttered, glancing down at his hands and then back up to Ben again. Richie stuck out his tongue at the corner of his mouth, tasting the coppery tang of blood still present there. He still didn't go on, and Jesus Christ, why was this so hard? Why couldn't he just come right out and say it already? Why did it feel like there was a gigantic lump sitting in the middle of his throat, making it so hard to speak?

A moment later, Eddie placed a warm and calming hand on Richie's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Then Ben reached across the bar, laying his hand on Richie's other shoulder. Ben stared at him deeply, his kind hazel eyes never moving, never wavering.

"Whatever it is, man, you can tell us," Ben told him, and even though Ben was already fully aware of what was coming, Richie appreciated his words nonetheless.

"I know," Richie said, closing his eyes one last time. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, it felt like it might explode. His ears were rushing with the sound of it, and perhaps that was a good thing, momentarily drowning out the sound of everyone else in the room. He swallowed, bowing his head as he whispered, "I'm gay."

There was that ridiculously long moment of silence again, just like when he had come out to Ben. Richie imagined that everyone was about to get to their feet and storm out of the room in disgust, even though he knew that at least half of them wouldn't. Ben wouldn't and Eddie wouldn't. It was just the others that he wasn't so sure about.

A moment later, Beverly was the first one to stand up, but she didn't leave the room like Richie had been anticipating. Ben's and Eddie's hands had fallen away from Richie's shoulders, and the next thing he knew, Beverly was pulling Richie into her arms.

"Oh, Richie," Beverly whispered, squeezing his shoulders ridiculously tightly. "How could ever think that that would change how we feel about you?"

Richie turned on his barstool slightly until he was facing Beverly fully. He still hadn't opened his eyes, because he wasn't quite ready for that yet. He pressed his head into Beverly's shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. Richie desperately tried to think of something to say, to try to get his throat to form the words, but all that came out was a choked sob.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder again, but Richie didn't look to see who it belonged to. Then a few seconds later, Mike said, "We still love you, man." Silence passed, and then Mike asked, "You know that, right?"

Again, Richie had the urge to respond but he couldn't. His heart was still beating too hard and his throat still felt too tight. He gently pulled away from Beverly, another sob escaping him. He hadn't quite been aware of the fact that his eyes had filled with tears, but they were soon spilling down his cheeks. Richie pulled off his glasses, because they were already getting foggy, but deep down, Richie knew it was so he didn't have to quite look anyone in the eye yet. He didn't know why, but even with the others' reassuring words, he still didn't quite feel ready for that. Richie buried his head in the crook of his arm, rubbing at his face harshly.

"I know," Richie finally whispered when he lowered his arm. He took a moment to rub his glasses off on his sweatshirt, wiping away any tears and fog that had settled into the lenses. He made a production of putting them back on before he raised his gaze to Ben again. To Ben's kind, unwavering gaze. "And I knew you guys wouldn't care, but…Jesus." He stared up at the ceiling in exasperation, feeling all the years of pent-up secrets and lies slowly seeping away. "Thirty fucking years of being in the closet and convincing yourself that everyone will hate you fucks with a person's head. Not to mention, that goddamned space clown who hammered that shit into my brain."

"We don't hate you," Mike said warmly, running his hand up and down Richie's back. "Believe me, if your regular obnoxious self couldn't make us hate you, then nothing will."

"Seriously," Eddie agreed, "you tell anyone who will listen that you've fucked my mom six ways from Sunday, and you're worried about being gay."

Richie sniffled before he let out of a soft breath, somewhere between a laugh and another sob. "Yeah and…um," he muttered, quickly glancing at Eddie, making sure that it was okay with him to reveal the next part. "That's not quite everything."

Eddie smiled at him encouragingly, reaching out and taking Richie's hand in his once more. Again, Richie was struck by the fact that none of the other Losers seemed to notice or even care when they did this.

Richie took a deep breath before he said, "All right, look." Richie paused, pressing his free hand over his mouth for a moment. He'd already gotten through the hardest part of this conversation, so why was revealing the truth about he and Eddie suddenly so fucking scary? Maybe because then, Richie would have no more secrets. No more lies to hide behind. The Losers would know absolutely everything about him, and that thought was so foreign to him. Richie had always had secrets, was so used to lying, so who would he be without any of that?

_Free_? Would he be _free_? _Free_ to be himself and to talk about his love life like it was fucking normal? Holy shit, that was a terrifying and a thrilling thought all at once, so Richie plunged on ahead, because he suddenly wanted it. Wanted it and craved it as much as he did Eddie.

"Eddie and I have been sort of in love with each other for thirty years," Richie said, staring down at his empty glass again. "We confessed our love to each other when he was in the hospital and we're together now. And if you have a problem with _that_, then I really don't know what to tell you."

"You act like this is news, dude," Ben said warmly. His head was propped up in his hand and he was watching Richie and Eddie happily. "You two have been doing nothing _but_ exuding sexual tension since we got back to Derry. I was only wondering how long it would be before you admitted it to yourselves, let alone the rest of the world."

"Not to mention," Mike said, "do you have any idea how obvious it was to the rest of us the way you two used that hammock as an excuse to touch each other?"

"I told you we were way too damn obvious," Eddie told him, even as his cheeks burned a deep shade of red that matched his sweatshirt.

Beverly had taken her seat again, but she laid a hand over Richie's arm. "The last clue I needed was this morning when you pretended it wasn't a big deal that you two shared a bed last night."

"It _wasn't_ a big deal!" Eddie immediately interjected. "Jesus Christ, I'm still healing from where Pennywise fucking stabbed me, and you guys think Richie and I were getting it on. I'm flattered that you assume I have that much energy right now. I only got out of the hospital _yesterday_."

Beverly giggled quietly before she said, "And well…Richie was talking about how lucky he was to have you. That kind of made me realize exactly what was happening."

"You said that?" Eddie asked quietly, watching him.

"Yeah, man," Richie replied, grinning at Eddie. He turned his hand over in Eddie's grasp, threading his fingers in between Eddie's. "I am. I'm so fucking lucky."

Richie took a moment to focus on his and Eddie's hands, gripped together. Then Richie raised his eyes and looked at each of the Losers in turn: to Ben, Beverly, and finally to Mike, who had taken up his seat at the end of the bar again. They were all watching him with nothing but love and acceptance, and Jesus Christ, why had Richie ever thought that this would have been any different? Why did he let that fucking clown, why did he let society dictate to him how his friends would feel about him if they knew the truth? Why had he hidden so much of himself away for so long? Why had it taken him so goddamned long to come out of the closet?

"Who said it first?" Beverly asked then, stirring Richie from his thoughts.

"Um," Richie said, a little bit caught off guard by the question. Here he was, talking about his and Eddie's relationship like it was the most normal conversation in the world. And maybe it was. Finally. Richie stole a glance at Eddie before he said, "I guess technically I did. But it was stupid." Richie rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. "I confessed everything to Eddie while he was sleeping, thinking and hoping that he couldn't hear me."

"And I woke up and fucking kissed the shit out of him," Eddie said proudly.

"Go, Eds," Ben said, leaning across the bar and clapping a hand on Eddie's shoulder.

"So you were aware of what was going on when you were in a coma?" Mike asked.

"Sort of," Eddie said, frowning in thought. "It kind of felt like I was floating in an endless void, but yeah, I could hear things. Most of them sounded like they were coming from the end of a long tunnel, and not all of them made sense to me, but…some did." He tightened his grip on Richie's hand, smiling at him.

There was that feeling again flooding through Richie – the realization of how fucking lucky and _loved_ he was. The Losers truly were his family in every sense of the word, and Richie wasn't quite sure what he had done to deserve them. Or to deserve Eddie's deep and undying love for him either.

"And before anyone asks," Eddie volunteered, "I'm bisexual and leaving Myra. Obviously."

"Good for you," Beverly said quietly. "We don't know her, but from what you've said about her…she's not good for you."

"She isn't," Eddie agreed, shaking his head. "It was like marrying my mother and fuck." Eddie pressed a hand over his eyes.

"Even though being married to and fucking your mom wouldn't be that bad," Richie said thoughtfully.

"_Dude_," Eddie muttered, staring at Richie out of the corner of his eye. "Can you not? Here I thought that coming out would put an end to your stupid jokes about my fucking _dead_ mother!"

"You love it," Richie said, leaning towards Eddie and pressing a kiss to Eddie's cheek. Then Richie's heart gave an uncomfortable thump, because he had acted without even really thinking about it. But one look around at the other Losers told him that no one cared. No one gave a rat's ass whether he kissed Eddie or held his hand. _No one cared_, and holy shit, that was an amazing feeling.

Richie could be himself, he could love Eddie like he wanted, and the Losers still loved him.

But then Richie reminded himself of the task at hand and why they were having this conversation in the first place. He took a deep breath before he said, "And to make a long story short, we had a run-in with those assholes who beat up Adrian and Don." Richie gestured to his swollen lip, then glanced at Mike.

"Did you call the police?" Mike immediately asked in concern. "I can't believe they still haven't been caught, but…I honestly don't know why I'm surprised." Mike rubbed a hand over his face. "Maybe I thought that killing Pennywise once and for all would put an end to the shoddy police work here."

"Yeah, I called the police to report where they were, but…I didn't report this incident," Richie said. "Keep in mind that _you're the only people I've come out to_." Richie stressed those words, even though he knew he didn't have to. The Losers were well aware of his position. "I don't _think_ those assholes recognized me, and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't need anyone outing me on social media, and god knows what could happen if I made a police report about this."

Richie was once again consumed by a feeling of guilt, because he wasn't fully reporting those assholes like he knew he should. They needed to be taken off the streets before they hurt someone else, and Richie knew he could be helping someone else to get hurt by not speaking up. "Is that selfish?" he asked tentatively.

"No," Ben said. "It's just fucked up that the victims in a goddamn crime feel like they can't make a police report, because of the possible backlash."

"Are you two okay otherwise?" Beverly asked, her hand going up to Richie's lip, but not quite touching it. "We should get some ice on that, or it's going to swell up even more by tomorrow."

"There's some ice back here," Ben said, bending down and rummaging through the bar supplies.

Ben was able to make an ice pack out of a plastic baggie and a clean bar rag. He filled the bag with ice before wrapping it in the rag and lifting it to Richie's face. Richie took it from him, pressing it against the side of his mouth. He almost hadn't realized just how much his mouth had been throbbing with every beat of his heart. He had been so consumed with the conversation he had been having, his injuries had been all but forgotten. As soon as the ice was up against his mouth, however, he could feel the intense throbbing there subside.

"That is the extent of it, right?" Beverly asked, her eyes going back and forth between Richie and Eddie. "We don't need to rush you two to the hospital, do we?"

"No, we're all right," Eddie said, trying his best to sooth Beverly's fears. "Richie got worst of it and…we're mostly just shaken."

In the end, the Losers sufficiently distracted Richie and Eddie from the events of the day. They played games well into the night and ordered a pizza, laughing their asses off at silly jokes and reminiscing about stupid things they had done over the years. It was exactly what Richie needed, his friends treating him like they always had, even though they now knew every single one of Richie's secrets.

It was nice, but that feeling didn't last nearly long enough.

Richie and Eddie settled into bed again that evening, wrapped around each other. Eddie drifted off almost immediately, but Richie was still wide awake, watching Eddie's chest rise and fall gently. Richie smiled, because he still thought about that day back on the lawn of the house on Neibolt Street when he thought Eddie had stopped breathing entirely. He still thought about all the countless times Eddie struggled to breath, reaching for his inhaler. So Richie loved whenever Eddie's breathing was coming gentle and slow.

But then Richie sighed, his mind wandering back to all the other shit that had happened that day. Disengaging himself from Eddie, Richie flopped over onto his back, staring up at the darkened ceiling.

It was amazing. Richie had thought that these sleepless nights would leave him now considering the fact that he was out and accepted by the rest of the Losers, but no. Certain assholes had completely ruined what should have been a fucking dream come true for him.

* * *

Eddie awoke sometime later to an episode of Dateline on the television. A glance at the clock on the bedside table told him that it was just after midnight. On his other side, Richie was sitting up in bed, propped up on a stack of pillows, his eyes seemingly glued to the television. At first, Eddie was surprised that Richie had chosen to watch this given that Richie didn't seem too thrilled about listening to true crime shit while he was in bed. But one good look at the other man told Eddie that Richie wasn't really watching. His eyes were unfocused. Glassy. He didn't even seem to notice that Eddie was stirring next to him, and if Eddie didn't know any better, he'd think that Richie was drunk. Richie, however, had only had that half a glass of bourbon before they had talked to the Losers.

"Richie?" Eddie asked quietly, shifting under the covers. "Are you okay?"

Richie paused, staring down at Eddie, then he gave a half-hearted smile. "Yeah."

"No, you're not," Eddie said, immediately recognizing the hesitancy in Richie's voice. Eddie then started to push himself into a sitting position. When he had made it, and his stitches had stopped throbbing, he turned more fully towards Richie. He laid a hand on Richie's arm and said, "I thought you were feeling better since we told everyone."

"I am," Richie said, his tone not matching his words. Then he amended, "I was. I still am."

Richie heaved a sign and ran a hand through his hair, and Eddie was pretty sure it wasn't the first time he had done so that evening. His already unruly hair was sticking up even more, standing up at even odder angles than usual.

"It's such a relief to not have to hide it from them anymore," Richie said. "It is. You have no idea what a weight it is off my shoulders to know that the most important people in my life really don't give a fuck if I'm gay or not." Richie paused for a very long time, staring ahead at the television without really watching it. "So why do I keep going over what those assholes said to me?" Richie asked, finally meeting Eddie's gaze. "They're assholes! Their opinion shouldn't matter! I should be focusing on what our friends think, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie agreed. He let his hand drift down Richie's arm, seeking out Richie's fingers and winding his own fingers through them. "That isn't always easy, though. I think maybe we take our friends' opinions for granted, because they are our friends. Of course they're going to be loving and supportive. But with strangers…they're not invested in us, so…it seems like their words sometimes carry more weight. Like they're free to speak the truth more than anyone else, but…Rich? Their words were fueled by _hate_."

Richie took a deep breath and replied, "I know. I know they were. Which is why it should be so easy to discount it, but…" Richie trailed off, staring up at the ceiling. "You know what really bothered me the most about what they said? It wasn't the names. I had sort of been expecting those and…it wasn't the first time I've heard them. It was when that Webby guy said I was _disgusting_." Richie lowered his gaze towards Eddie and added, "I don't know if you heard that, because you were still in the car, but…yeah. He said I was _disgusting_." Richie let out a soft breath of disbelief and shook his head. "I just want to _love_ you. Why is that _disgusting_? Why am I disgusting _for_ it?"

Richie's tone had begun to sound a bit desperate, and if Eddie wasn't mistaken, he thought he could hear the faintest hint of sob hidden there.

"You _aren't_." Eddie lifted his free hand, pressed it against Richie's cheek, and rubbed his thumb over the stubble there. "Not for that – for _this_ anyway. I mean, yeah, you are completely obnoxious and gross. All it takes is one joke about my mom to know that, but…your love for me is one of the reasons why I fell in love with you in the first place. _That's_ not gross. _That's_ not disgusting. I don't think so, and none of the other Losers think it is either. And I fucking hate those assholes for making you think that in the first place."

"I know," Richie said around a somber smile. He leaned into Eddie's hand, then lifted his own free hand to it, pressing his palm over the back of Eddie's hand. "And I don't know why it's that word specifically that's bothering me so much. Maybe because love is supposed to be…wholesome. Pure. And they're trying to make it into something…tainted."

"They don't understand it, Rich," Eddie told him. "I actually doubt they even understand what it's like to love someone at all, and that's pretty fucking sad. And…" Eddie trailed off, swallowing hard against his words.

"What?"

"I wonder if I would even know what real love was if not for you and the rest of the Losers," Eddie said. "I mean, my mother isn't comparable to those assholes, but she still didn't exactly do a good job of showing me what love really was. All she knew was control and…forcing me into a box I didn't quite fit in. And it was easy for me to believe her, you know? When she told me I was sick, and that I had asthma, and…it was so easy for me to discount how my own body felt. All I knew were her lies and that shit fucks with a person's head. I know it does. And all of the Losers helped me, but…I don't know if you realize just how much you've done for me. Shit, I wouldn't even be sitting here now if not for you."

"I could never leave you down there," Richie said, shaking his head firmly. He laid a hand over Eddie's cheek now. "I didn't care if I died in the process, because I just couldn't live with myself if I knew you were down in It's lair for all eternity. I love you too much for that."

Eddie smiled, turning his head into Richie's hand and kissing his palm. "And do you realize how long it's been since I've needed my inhaler?"

It was Richie's turn to smile. "Yeah. I didn't really want to bring it to your attention, but I did wonder if you noticed."

"I have," Eddie said firmly. "And I realize how far I've come. Jesus, remember when they had me on oxygen in the hospital and I _still_ thought I needed my inhaler? And now…I don't even remember the last time I felt compelled to reach for it. Because of you, Rich. You're fucking amazing, okay? And anyone who thinks otherwise just doesn't know you, and that's their fucking loss."

Richie reached his hand around, tugging at the back of Eddie's neck and pulling Eddie towards him. Eddie went at first, leaning into Richie's chest, his head tucked underneath Richie's chin. It was a wonderful feeling, Richie's chest so warm and solid underneath him, but it was only a moment before Eddie's scar started to throb in pain at the stretch.

"I love you, but I can't lay like this, Rich," Eddie said, his voice muffled by Richie's t-shirt.

"What?"

"It's too uncomfortable on my stitches," Eddie said, slowly pushing away from Richie. He grimaced as he went, hissing in a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you okay?" Richie asked, leaning towards Eddie, voice full of concern. "Do you need your meds?"

"No," Eddie replied, "I just need to be on my back." He laid back down against his pillow, exhaling in relief as he did.

Richie laid down next to him and scooted closer, reaching out an arm to wrap around Eddie's middle. Then he kissed Eddie's cheek before he pillowed his head against Eddie's shoulder.

They laid like that for a while, but then Eddie reached across his chest, placing a gentle hand on Richie's chin. He directed Richie's gaze towards him he captured Richie's lips in a kiss, almost immediately pressing his tongue against Richie's lips.

For the very first time since they had gotten together, Eddie very suddenly had a burning desire for more from Richie, and he really wasn't quite sure where that feeling was coming from. Perhaps it was the events of the day that really made him realize how very much he loved the man in front of him. Eddie had always known he had loved Richie of course, but Eddie supposed it was a culmination of the events at the Kissing Bridge that suddenly made him want to show Richie how much he loved and appreciated him.

Eddie tentatively lifted up the bottom hem of Richie's t-shirt, pressing his fingers against the bare skin of his stomach.

"Can I?" Eddie asked, pulling back slightly and searching Richie's eyes.

"God, yeah, Eds." Richie leaned back in for another kiss.

However, Eddie broke the kiss a moment later and said, "I'm not ready for anything…salacious. I just…I just want to…be closer."

"Whatever you want," Richie said reassuringly. He trailed kisses along Eddie's jaw, slowly making his way back towards Eddie's ear, which drew a shiver from the other man. Richie smiled against the skin of Eddie's neck and said, "I meant what I said – if all we ever do is share a mattress, I will die a happy man. But if you want to start…exploring, I'm down for that too."

Eddie flattened his palm against Richie's stomach, then trailed his hand back to Richie's hip, squeezing it tightly. "You were right," Eddie whispered, capturing Richie's lips in a quick kiss again. "Your love handles give me something to hold onto."

"Told you," Richie said around a smile, dipping back down to press kisses behind Eddie's ear and down his neck.

A moment later, Richie's own hand found the bottom of Eddie's t-shirt, pushing it up slowly. At first, Richie took a moment to slowly run his hand up and down Eddie's bandages where his scar would be. This made Eddie shiver once again.

Richie kissed the juncture between Eddie's neck and shoulder before he said, "Once you're fully healed and get your stitches out, I have this insane urge to cover your scar in kisses."

Eddie sucked in a shuddered sigh at the feel of Richie's breath against his skin. He leaned his head back into his pillow a little farther and asked, "That thought doesn't…gross you out?"

"God, no," Richie murmured, sucking in Eddie's bottom lip in a quick kiss. "I told you, it's nothing but beautiful to me, and I want you to know that. I…want to make it into something…better for you."

"Rich," Eddie said, returning Richie's favor of trailing kisses along Richie's jaw. Eddie let go of Richie's hip, then curled his hand around Richie's back, dragging his nails lightly along Richie's skin.

Richie ran his hand down along Eddie's bandages again before he paused at the thin line of skin between the bandages and waistband of Eddie's pajama pants. Richie dipped a single finger under the elastic.

"Is this okay?" Richie asked before he went any farther.

"Yeah," Eddie replied, sucking gently against Richie's neck. "Just…don't go too far down. I'm not…ready for that yet."

Richie sunk his hand under the elastic, rubbing it against the skin along Eddie's hip, his fingers teasing at the slight curve of Eddie's ass. "I won't," Richie reassured him. "But this okay?"

Eddie nodded against Richie's neck. "Yeah. More than okay."

"Okay," Richie said, seeking out Eddie's lips in a kiss again. "Just tell me if it's too much and you need to stop."

"It's not too much," Eddie said, using his hand on Richie's back to pull him closer. "It's…just right." Eddie laughed softly against the skin of Richie's jaw before he added, "And this is absolutely insane to me, because I never had these urges with Myra."

Richie lifted his leg and slipped it in between Eddie's, his knee touching ever so slightly at the crotch of Eddie's pajama pants. Richie hummed in response, smiling and kissing at Eddie's neck again.

"Can't help it if I'm just that sexy," Richie replied.

It suddenly occurred to Eddie that he hadn't told Richie just how hot he thought he was. Richie had already told Eddie he was sexy, no matter how much Eddie tried to argue the matter, but Eddie had never returned the favor. Eddie didn't necessarily feel the need to, since Richie already pretended to be pretty full of himself, but considering the circumstances, Eddie thought it was warranted.

"Fuck, you are," Eddie said. He brought his hand around to Richie's front, running his fingers up along Richie's chest. Eddie snuck his fingers behind Richie's neck, squeezing it tightly. "You turn me on like no one ever has. Even with your out-of-shape dad bod."

"Yeah?" Richie asked, leaning back to stare down into Eddie's eyes.

"Yeah," Eddie said, pulling Richie back in for another kiss. He turned his head, deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue into Richie's mouth.

Richie wrapped his hand around Eddie's hip a little more, trailing it along the very bottom of Eddie's bandages, skirting the top of Eddie's ass. Eddie moaned into Richie's mouth, lifting his leg to wrap it around Richie's, then bucked his hips up slightly into Richie's knee.

"Fuck," Eddie said, breaking the kiss and panting heavily into Richie's mouth. "God, I love you so fucking much," Eddie said, staring up into Richie's eyes and, Jesus.

Eddie didn't know if he had ever seen such an intense expression on Richie's face. His eyes were swimming in the glow from the television, the faintest smile on his lips. If Eddie wasn't mistaken, he thought he could see Richie's bottom lip quivering the tiniest bit. Richie pressed his lips together, apparently in an effort to quell it, but his eyes were still shimmering with unshed tears.

"I don't know if I tell you that enough," Eddie added.

"You do," Richie whispered, "just…never while we were feeling each other up before. That shit's intense. And I love you too." Richie settled his head on Eddie's shoulder again, laving kisses lazily along Eddie's neck.

Eddie hummed in response, tilting his head away from Richie to give him easier access. Richie, however, didn't further his activity, but his kisses slowly trailed off. Eddie had been slightly nervous about starting something and having it go too far, but Richie seemed to know exactly when they had started toeing that line and had pulled back slightly. Richie never made him feel like he was giving too little, and god, Eddie loved him for it.

"Rich?"

"Hm?"

"I'm lucky to have you too."

Richie momentarily tightened his arm around Eddie, and Eddie thought he could feel Richie's smile against his neck. He pressed one final kiss to Eddie's neck, then brought his hand up and settled it against Eddie's chest, rubbing his thumb over the bandages.

Eddie closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of having Richie wrapped around him. Eddie eventually drifted off, and even his wildest dreams couldn't compete with the crazy turn his life had taken.

God, he was lucky.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: Yay for tentative sexy times! The last part of this chapter wasn't even supposed to happen yet either, but Richie and Eddie had other ideas. And look at that, this chapter put me over 70,000 words for this story. Did I ever imagine that that stupid clown movie would make me write this much? No, and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight, because there's so much more to cover. I'm stunned, and thank you so much to those of you who have been sending me feedback. I appreciate and love you guys!_


	13. Chapter 13: Trust

**Brave  
**Chapter 13 – Trust

For the second morning in a row, Richie woke up curled around Eddie, their limbs still entangled. Richie smiled, momentarily tightening his grip around Eddie before he relaxed again, staring up into Eddie's gloriously serene face.

"I love you," Richie whispered.

Eddie stirred gently against Richie and mumbled back, "I love you too." His eyes were still closed as he stilled, and Richie wasn't entirely sure whether Eddie was waking up or not. Maybe he was still asleep, caught somewhere in a dream about Richie himself.

This caused Richie to smile again, nuzzling into Eddie's neck. A part of Richie wanted to let Eddie sleep, but based on what had happened yesterday, he didn't quite think that that was the best option; the last thing he wanted was for Eddie to wake up in a near-panic because he thought that Richie had up and left him again.

"Eds?" Richie asked quietly.

Eddie stirred again, turning his head towards Richie. He still didn't open his eyes, but he asked, "Hm?"

"I'm gonna go get us some bagels and coffee again," Richie said, "okay?"

"'Kay."

"Do you need your meds before I go?"

Eddie didn't reply right away, but he took a moment to stretch slightly. Eddie finally opened his eyes and said, "I don't think so. It's twinging a little, but I'm not really in pain. I'm more concerned about possibly developing an addiction to them given my history, you know? I'd rather not take them unless I absolutely need them."

"Yeah," Richie replied, pressing a kiss against Eddie's cheek. "I'll be back." Richie started to get up, disengaging his limbs from Eddie's, but then Eddie called him back.

"Richie?"

"Hm?" Richie asked, pausing just above Eddie.

"Last night was nice," Eddie said quietly, but then his cheeks burned red. "I mean, I know we didn't do anything…involved, but…I liked what we did do. A lot."

Speaking of twinges, Richie felt one somewhere in the center of his chest – almost like he had just gone down a large hill on a roller coaster. Grinning, Richie closed the distance between them, kissing Eddie deeply. Because Jesus Christ, here was Eddie Kaspbrak, the man of his dreams and one of the most straight-laced people he knew, telling Richie that he enjoyed it when they made out and felt each other up. Richie had never even imagined Eddie doing such things in his wildest dreams, must less that they would ever be directed at Richie of all people. What the fuck had he ever done to deserve this?

"Me too," Richie murmured against Eddie's lips, letting his hand drift down to Eddie's hip. "You want to come downstairs with me?" he asked now that Eddie was waking up.

"No," Eddie said. "I'm gonna stay in bed a while longer. Wait for you to bring me breakfast in bed again, because I kind of like it."

"I'll do it every day if you let me."

"Mm," Eddie murmured, apparently taking a moment to think about this. "I guess I'll keep you around then."

"That's what your mom said too."

"Oh my _god_," Eddie bit out, pushing playfully against Richie's shoulder. "Get the fuck off me and go get my breakfast, jackass."

Grinning again, Richie pressed one more quick kiss to Eddie's cheek before he got up. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and put them on, quickly pulling on his jeans and toing on his shoes. Eddie watched him as he went, a small smile present on his lips and around his eyes. Richie sighed and smiled at him one last time before grabbing the key and making his way from the room.

Only Ben was seated at the bar in the lounge that day, sipping at his coffee and reading that morning's paper. He looked up and smiled when he saw Richie enter.

"Hey, man," Ben said as Richie made his way over to the bar and sat down. Ben seemed to watch Richie for a long time as he poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred in his customary three spoonfuls of sugar.

"No Bev this morning?" Richie asked around a yawn.

Ben swallowed his sip of coffee before he said, "No, she's on a conference call with her company." Ben ran a hand over his face as he let out a heavy sigh. "Tom isn't going to make this shit easy for her." He paused, staring down at the newspaper before him, absentmindedly picking at one of corners.

Richie murmured around his coffee cup. "Fucking exes. Am I right?"

"Yeah," Ben replied quietly. "At least Eddie doesn't have to deal with a jointly-owned company with Myra. That's a whole other headache altogether."

Richie snorted into his coffee cup. "Maybe we could introduce Tom to Myra. They could distract each other for a while."

Ben smiled, but he watched Richie closely again for a moment. "You look happy though," Ben observed.

Richie set his coffee cup back down on the bar. "I am," he said, sitting back in his barstool and rubbing at his eyes underneath his glasses. He ran a hand through his hair and said, "I mean, aside from Myra and all the shit that went on yesterday…a lot of things are…really good. You guys know and accept the real me, and I'm with Eddie, which is _all_ I've ever wanted." Richie stared long and hard at Ben. "I can finally fucking be myself, at least where you guys are concerned." Richie leaned forward, setting his arms on the bar and staring down into his cup of coffee. He frowned deeply as he said, "I've never really been able to say that before."

Ben laid a comforting hand on Richie's arm, smiling. "Well," he said a moment later, "take a look at this, because I think it's going to make you even happier." He let go of Richie and pushed the newspaper he was reading across the bar.

Richie turned the paper around to face him, his mouth dropping open at the headline on the front page.

_SUSPECTS APPREHENDED IN HATE CRIME_

"'Due to an anonymous tip,'" Richie read aloud, "'four suspects are now in police custody on suspicion of a hate crime that occurred last month at the Derry Canal Days Festival.'" Richie swallowed hard, his throat suddenly feeling too tight to speak any further. He stuck his fingers under his glasses again, rubbing at his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Jesus."

"At least those assholes are off the streets," Ben said. "They're not going to be doing this shit to anyone else."

Richie found himself staring down at his coffee mug again. He couldn't quite stop the feeling of guilt that coiled around in his stomach like a snake, making him feel slightly sick. Richie didn't think he'd ever stop feeling bad about the fact that he didn't report what had happened with those assholes. Yeah, they were in police custody for now, but Richie wanted to make sure they stayed there; hiding the fact that they had tried to attack another gay couple certainly wasn't going to help matters any.

Richie shook his head at the sensation in the pit of his stomach and decided to focus on happier things, because as he had told Ben, despite the fact that there was still a lot of shit going on, more than enough was going right.

"Can I ask you something?" Richie asked.

"Yeah, man."

Richie opened his mouth, but then he closed it again, not quite sure how to voice his thoughts. He mulled this over in his mind for a while before he said, "We're both kind of in the same boat – madly in love with people who are both married to assholes."

"Yeah," Ben said again. "So what's your question?"

"I keep having this insane thought," Richie admitted around a laugh. "Which, I guess, isn't that out of the ordinary for me, but it is for Eddie."

One of Ben's eyebrows went up in curiosity. "What are you thinking?"

"Eddie and I are meant to be," Richie said firmly. "I'm not certain of a whole hell of a lot, but I'm at least sure of that much. You don't stay in love with someone for well over half your life if they're _not_ your soulmate. Especially when you even forgot they existed for twenty years." Richie suddenly found himself laughing again. "And I realize how absurd it probably is to hear me say shit like that – Trashmouth talking like a goddamn romance novel – but it's true." Richie paused, biting at his bottom lip in trepidation. "Is that how you feel about Bev? You know it's a sure thing?"

Ben had propped up his head in his hand, watching as Richie rambled on. "Yeah," Ben finally admitted. "Both Bev and I are certain about this."

"That's what I mean though," Richie said around a sigh. "I'm…not so sure Eddie knows it." At Ben's slightly concerned expression, Richie said, "I mean, he loves me and he wants to be with me. There's no question about that. But…he's a little uncertain about my commitment to _him_. After all that shit went down yesterday, he basically came right out and asked me if I was going to end things. He's afraid that I'm just going to up and leave because shit gets hard sometimes." Richie scoffed at this like it was the most absurd idea known to man. "Like I waited for him for thirty fucking years just to break things off right after I've gotten him."

Ben considered this for a while. "So you're asking how to make sure that Eddie knows you're serious about your relationship?"

"Yeah," Richie said, nodding, "that's what I'm asking. And that's where my insane idea comes in." He grimaced and picked up his coffee cup again, but didn't drink from it. He swirled it around in his grip and laughed softly before he said, "He threw his wedding ring over the Kissing Bridge yesterday, and now I keep getting this urge to…replace it."

Both of Ben's eyebrows went up now as he watched Richie closely.

"See? You think it's insane too!" Richie exclaimed, throwing up his free hand. "He's still fucking married. I can't possibly ask him to marry me yet, even though I kind of really want to. He has way too much to sort out with Myra before he's even remotely ready to think about taking that step again." Richie shook his head. "It's stupid. I know it is. I just hate the thought of him thinking that I'm not serious about this, about _him_. Because I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

Ben took a drink of coffee, then set his cup down. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "you're right. I don't know about engagement just yet, but you could always give him a promise ring. I hear it's what all the cool kids are doing these days."

"But we're _not_ kids."

Ben shrugged. "You missed that stage of your relationship. I say go for it."

* * *

Richie kept going over and over Ben's words as he and Eddie got ready that morning. They were falling into a new routine where Richie would help Eddie into and out of the bath before checking and rebandaging his wound. Once Richie had seen his scar the first time, Eddie barely seemed to give it a second thought anymore, which gave Richie a warm feeling in the middle of his chest.

After taking a quick shower and pulling on a pair of pants, Richie made his way back out to the room he shared with Eddie. Eddie was sitting on the bed in just his blue jeans, his bandages covering up most of his torso. Eddie was smiling at something on his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that Richie was eyeing him closely, because _fuck_.

Richie kept thinking about the gorgeous fucking abs and defined muscles that lay underneath those bandages. Richie desperately wished for the day when the bandages would be gone, and he would get to see them whenever he wanted. Would get to touch them and kiss like he constantly had the urge to.

Trying to shake the thoughts from his head, Richie went over to the dresser and pulled out a clean t-shirt. The only thing that sucked about remaining in Derry for so long and so unexpectedly was that Richie had only brought five sets of clothes, one of which had been thrown out long ago. Ben and Bev had been generous enough to take his clothes to the laundromat more than a few times already while Richie was at the hospital with Eddie. Now it looked like it was about time for Richie to go again.

"Hey, man," Richie said, shaking out the wrinkles from his shirt, "maybe we should go clothes shopping. I didn't exactly bring supplies for an extended vacation. Speaking of which, my manager is going to kill me. He's already had to cancel my shows for the foreseeable future, and I still don't know when I'm going to be back yet."

When Eddie didn't reply to him, Richie turned back towards the bed. "Eds?" he asked, but then the man in question was immediately behind him. "Holy shit," Richie breathed out, Eddie stepping up close to him.

"I haven't seen you without a shirt on since we were kids," Eddie said heavily, his eyes drifting up and down Richie's chest. Richie could see him swallowing as Eddie reached out his fingers, pressing them against the hair that covered Richie's stomach, just above the waistband of his jeans. Glancing back up at Richie, there was a glint in Eddie's eyes that Richie had never quite seen before. "You didn't tell me you got so hot."

Richie huffed out a breath, because he had that thought again – where in the hell did this almost feral Eddie come from and what had Richie done to be on the receiving end of it? "You didn't tell me you were so ripped," Richie said, looking down his nose at Eddie. "I'd say that makes us even."

Just as quickly as it had come, however, that uninhibited look in Eddie's eye was gone. He frowned, staring down at where his fingers were resting over Richie's stomach.

"What?" Richie asked.

"I just…" Eddie began, but then he paused and bit at his lip. "Are you _sure_ you don't need to go back to work? I mean, I wouldn't be mad if you had to leave early. I don't want you to lose fans because you have to be here to take care of me. The other Losers can-"

Richie pressed a finger to Eddie's lips to silence him. "I'm sure," Richie said firmly. "My fans can wait. If they don't understand that the love of my life is more important than making them laugh, they can go fuck themselves."

Eddie flattened his palms against Richie's stomach, then let them travel up, resting them against Richie's pecs. Eddie stood up on tiptoes and kissed him.

Richie wrapped his hands around Eddie's hips, then paused for a very long time. His heart seemed to flip over in his chest as he slowly dipped his hands down lower than he had the night before. He slipped them into the back pockets of Eddie's jeans, cupping his ass gently, which elicited a yelp from the back of Eddie's throat. Richie thought he might have overstepped his bounds for a moment, that Eddie was going to push him away, but Eddie only wrapped his hands around the back of Richie's neck. Eddie pulled Richie down towards him insistently, desperately trying to deepen their kiss even more.

Encouraged by this, Richie turned slightly until Eddie's ass was pressed up against the dresser behind him. Richie pulled his hands from Eddie's pockets, letting them drift down to Eddie's thighs.

"This okay?" Richie asked, breaking their kiss momentarily.

"Fuck, yes," Eddie murmured, sealing their lips together again.

Richie cupped Eddie's thighs and lifted up gently until Eddie was seated on the top of the dresser. Eddie wrapped his legs around Richie's waist, pulling him even closer, his fingers threading through the shower-damp hair at the back of Richie's neck.

Richie thrust his hips forward into Eddie's. Eddie still didn't seem to have any problem with this, groaning into Richie's mouth at the sensation, but then all at once, Richie broke the kiss, because, Jesus Christ, what were they doing? Richie stepped backwards slightly, but he was still close enough that Eddie's legs stayed around his waist.

Eddie looked at him curiously, his brown eyes even larger than usual, his breath coming in heavy pants. "What's wrong?" Eddie asked, a small frown forming on his features. He released the back of Richie's neck, his hands settling on Richie's chest again instead.

"N-nothing," Richie gasped out around his own heavy breaths. "I just…" He paused again, swallowing hard. "Do you think we're moving too fast?"

"Twenty-seven goddamn years, Rich," Eddie pointed out. "If we moved any slower, we'd be going backwards."

"I know," Richie agreed, "but…this is all kind of sudden. Up until yesterday, we hadn't done anything except kiss a lot, and now…"

"Rich," Eddie said, suddenly letting his legs fall away from Richie's waist. "We don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable. This is new for both of us and-"

Richie shook his head firmly. "I'm not uncomfortable. Not in the least." He paused, biting at his lower lip in trepidation. He didn't know why it was so hard for him to voice his concerns to Eddie.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," Eddie said. His hands were still on Richie's chest, and he moved his thumbs back and forth through the hair. "You know that, right?"

Swallowing hard, Richie nodded and released Eddie's waist. He brought his hands up to Eddie's where they were placed on his chest, laying them over Eddie's. Eddie turned his hands over, gripping Richie's tightly in his before letting their clasped hands fall to his lap. Still, Eddie kept running his thumbs over the backs of Richie's hands in a comforting fashion.

"I'm not uncomfortable," Richie said again, because the last thing he wanted was for Eddie to think he wasn't into this. "I told you last night, I'm down to start exploring and shit. I've been repressing my sexuality for thirty fucking years. I'm more than ready for this. I just…are _you_ ready for this?" He stared into Eddie's eyes at these words, trying to gauge his reaction.

"_Fuck yes_," Eddie replied, squeezing Richie's hands tightly in his. "I thought that much was obvious from my reaction. I'm _really_ fucking into this, Rich. Why would I be going along with this otherwise?"

"Because," Richie said, but then he stopped for a long time. He frowned deeply and stared down at their interlocked hands, not quite sure if Eddie would appreciate his overprotectiveness or not. When Richie met Eddie's eyes again, he asked, "Remember what I told you at the Kissing Bridge? So many of your relationships have been about control and…I keep worrying that you're going along with this because you think it's what _I_ want. It's kind of why I pulled back last night before things got _really_ out of hand."

Eddie shook his head furiously. "_God, no_. I really fucking want this, okay? Like you wouldn't believe." Eddie swallowed hard before he added, "I knew that was why you stopped last night, and god…you don't know how much I love you for it. You _never_ make me feel like I _have_ to do something. I've _never_ felt that way with you."

"Never?" Richie stared deeply into Eddie's eyes, hopeful, searching.

"_No_," Eddie stressed. "Remember what I told you before you changed my bandages for the first time? You're the person I trust most in this world. I _know_ I don't have to go along with shit just to make you happy. You have to know that I'm not afraid to tell you to get the fuck off of me if I'm uncomfortable with what we're doing."

Richie sighed before he nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do." He smiled after a moment and added, "I know you don't have a problem telling me to fuck off. But…I'm afraid that we might get carried and end up doing shit that you realize you weren't ready for. And I don't want that. I don't want you to regret anything about us. I don't want you to regret _me_."

Eddie let out a soft breath and he released Richie's hands. Eddie brought his palms up to Richie's cheeks before he said, "I could never regret you. I could never regret _us_. Or anything we do together. Because I trust you. You know that, right?"

Richie swallowed audibly and leaned forward until his forehead was pressed up against Eddie's. Of course Richie knew that Eddie trusted him; Eddie never would let him see his scar and help him with shit like baths otherwise. But when Eddie flat-out told him so, a funny little feeling settled into Richie chest. It was a tight fullness that Richie didn't think he'd ever get tired of.

Eddie's trust would never be something that he gave away easily, and he chose to give it to Richie of all people.

"Yeah," Richie whispered, his voice thick.

"Okay," Eddie said, tipping his head back and away from Richie's slightly. He took a moment to look deeply into Richie's eyes before he said, "And now I'm asking you to trust me."

"I do," Richie immediately replied. He laid his hands over Eddie's thighs, squeezing. "God, I do. You know I wouldn't be doing this shit with just anyone. I wouldn't be here right now with you if I didn't trust you."

"Then trust that I'm aware of what I want and what I don't want," Eddie told him. "Even when I was used to submitting to what my mother and Myra wanted, I was still always conscious of the fact that it was never what _I_ wanted. It was always what _they_ wanted, but that doesn't mean I never knew what I wanted. I've _always_ known what I wanted, and that's you. _This_. I told you I wanted to kiss you ever since the first time I squeezed into that hammock with you. And that's not all I've wanted to do."

Eddie closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Richie's in another searing kiss. Richie, however, broke it again, leaning back and looking at Eddie closely.

"Just promise me something," Richie said before Eddie could inquire further.

"What's that?"

"If we're ever doing anything that's starting to make you the least bit uncomfortable," Richie said firmly, "please just tell me, okay? I don't care what we're doing. We could be about to have sex-"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Rich," Eddie bit out, his cheeks turning that fetching shade of red.

"And if you suddenly decide you don't want to," Richie continued on, "you just say the word and it stops. No questions asked. I promise I won't be mad or frustrated, because the last thing I ever want to do is make you do something you're not ready for. Okay?"

Eddie nodded and replied, "Yeah. I told you I trust you. That includes knowing that you'll stop if I ever ask you to."

"Okay," Richie whispered, a smile growing to consume his features. His hands drifted up Eddie's thighs to his hips, reaching out to encircle them. "As long as we're both on the same page then, I guess we can start exploring each other more."

"Shut up and kiss me," Eddie said, once again closing the distance between them.

Eddie leaned forward fully, pressing his chest up against Richie's and sealing their lips together. Eddie moaned at the sensation before momentarily pulling away.

"I love feeling your chest against mine," Eddie whispered against Richie's lips. "It really fucking turns me on." He paused, glancing down between them. "I can't wait till I get these fucking bandages off and can feel you completely."

"Holy shit," Richie muttered, kissing Eddie back hungrily. He ran his hands up Eddie's back, also wishing that those fucking bandages could be gone so he could feel Eddie's skin under his fingers too. "How did we ever keep our hands off each other?"

"I don't know," Eddie murmured between kisses. "I don't know."

Just then, however, Eddie's phone began to ring from over on the bed. Eddie groaned loudly into Richie's mouth.

"If that's fucking Myra-" Richie bit out, trailing kisses along Eddie's jaw and back towards his ear.

"I know," Eddie replied, placing his hands flat against Richie's chest and pushing him away gently. Eddie climbed down off the dresser and made his way over to the bed as he said, "But I have to if want to get this divorce moving." Eddie retrieved his phone from the bed, his mouth opening in an expression of surprise. "It's Bill," Eddie told Richie, swiping his screen to accept the call. "Hey, big Bill." Eddie took a seat on the end of the bed while Richie leaned against the dresser.

"Hey," came Bill's voice from the other end of the line. He paused for a moment before he said, "Don't be mad at Bev, but…she kind of called me and said…you and Richie were _attacked_? What the f-fuck happened?

"Oh," Eddie said quietly, blinking his eyes in surprise. He stared at Richie before he went on. "Um. Yeah. We're both okay. It sounds a lot worse than is."

"Shit!" Bill cried through the phone. "I knew I shouldn't have left without the rest of you, but my wife and this fucking director were breathing down my neck-"

"Bill, we're fine," Richie said loudly to make sure that Bill could hear him. He made his way across the room, taking a seat on the foot of the bed next to Eddie.

"Richie?"

"Yeah," Richie replied. "I have a fat lip. That's all. Absolutely nothing to be concerned about."

"What _happened_?" Bill asked again.

"Um," Richie said. His tongue darted out, feeling the slightly swollen skin at the corner of his mouth. At least it had gone down a bit after Beverly had made him put ice on it yesterday. Richie then glanced up at Eddie to make sure that he was okay to have this discussion with Bill. Eddie nodded unnecessarily, because Richie knew it wasn't fair for the rest of the Losers to know and not Bill.

Richie took a moment to rub his hand across the back of his neck, his damp curls tickling his skin there. "Well, long story short, you remember those assholes who beat up Adrian and Don? You know, before Pennywise killed Adrian?"

"Yeah…" Bill said, his tone slow and confused.

"We had a little run-in with them at the Kissing Bridge," Richie said nonchalantly.

Eddie stared at him for a long time, his brown eyes large and round. Perhaps Eddie was surprised that Richie had just cut right to the chase with Bill, but Richie was more than ready to be out, at least where their friends were concerned. Things had gone well enough with everyone else, and Richie knew that Bill wouldn't care either, especially considering he was one of Eddie's best friends.

A long moment of silence met their ears, but then Bill said, "_Oh_." His tone was clear, understanding. No one said anything else right away, but then Bill asked, "So you two finally admitted your feelings to each other." The smile, the smugness was evident in his voice.

"Yeah," Eddie replied softly, leaning his head against Richie's shoulder. "Why didn't you guys just tell us to stop being stubborn assholes already?"

Bill snorted. "You know you wouldn't have listened to us."

"Did everyone fucking know but us?" Richie asked in exasperation.

"_Yes_," Bill said.

"Told you," Eddie said affectionately, entwining the fingers of his free hand with Richie's.

"Jesus," Richie said. "Do you have any idea how long I've agonized over this shit? Not just with coming out, but with possibly ruining my friendship with Eddie if I said anything? And now I come to find out everyone already knew we both felt the same way." Richie flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling wide-eyed. "Unbelievable."

Eddie snickered.

A moment later, Bill's concerned voice came through the speaker again. "But you two are okay, right?"

Eddie smiled, rubbing his thumb over the back of Richie's hand. "Yeah," Eddie said firmly. "A lot better than okay actually."

"Sounds like it," Bill replied, his voice happy, understanding.

"And speaking of which," Richie told them, "they caught those assholes, so hopefully, we don't need to worry about them anymore."

"Good," Bill said. "You guys will let me knew if you need anything, right?"

"Yeah, we will," Eddie promised.

"Okay," Bill answered. "I have to get back on set before my director has a coronary, but…have fun, you two."

"Bye, Bill," Richie yelled, because it was already starting. The Losers were ribbing them for being madly in love with each other. And Richie wouldn't have it any other way.

When Eddie hung up and dropped his phone on the mattress, he climbed onto his knees on the bed. Richie watched him curiously, and a moment later, Eddie was straddling Richie's hips.

"Fuck," Richie whispered, staring up at Eddie in shock. He ran his hands over Eddie's thighs and up to his hips, gripping them tightly. "I think I've created a monster."

Eddie grinned, placing his hands on the mattress next to Richie's head. He slowly lowered himself until he was lying flat against Richie, their chests pressed together. "I told you," Eddie said, sucking on Richie's bottom lip, "I like when our bodies are pressed up against each other. Turns me on."

Richie groaned, trying his best to keep his own hips still. He knew that Eddie was more than ready to start exploring, but Richie still wanted to make sure that they weren't taking things too fast. Because at this rate, they were already going to be ripping each other's clothes off by next week. Not that Richie had a problem with that, but they had their entire lives together for this sort of thing, and it would come in its own time. Not to mention, Eddie was still healing and they could have a lot more fun together once Eddie's injuries weren't a problem anymore.

Running his hands up and down Eddie's back, Richie caressed the bandages over Eddie's scar. Richie picked his head up from the mattress, capturing Eddie's lips in a deep kiss before trailing his lips back along Eddie's jaw. He settled his nose into that place just behind Eddie's ear that Richie knew was super sensitive, darting his tongue out quickly over the skin.

"_Richie_," Eddie whispered, pressing his hips down insistently.

Richie groaned again, louder this time, because goddamn, this man was going to be the death of him. Laying his head back down on the mattress, Richie stared up at Eddie, at the man of his dreams just above him, once again wondering what he had ever done to deserve this. To be the object of this man's affections.

Releasing Eddie's back with one hand, Richie cupped one of Eddie's cheeks. "I love you, Eds," Richie said, "and I've never stopped. Not since I was thirteen years old and I never will."

"Neither will I," Eddie said, kissing Richie again.

Just then, however, Eddie's phone rang once again. It was Eddie's turn to groan loudly, but this time for an entirely different reason than before.

"_Fuck_," Eddie grunted. He reached his hand out absently for his phone on the other side of the mattress, not taking his lips away from Richie's. "I swear to god, I love Bill, but I am going to kill him."

Eddie had apparently found his phone and accepted the call. He tucked his head underneath Richie's chin and asked, "What'd you forget?" When no response came, Eddie lifted his head from Richie's chest. "Bill?"

"No, it _isn't_ Bill, _Edward_."

_Fuck_. It was Myra.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: These two…now that I let them have a little fun, that's all they want to do now :/_


	14. Chapter 14: I Want That With Richie

_Author's note: How's everyone doing during these difficult times? It's been a crazy couple of weeks since my last update. I work in a grocery store, so I'm an essential employee, and it's been absolutely crazy as you can imagine. I've been so exhausted when I get home, the last thing I've wanted to do was write, so it's been a bit longer than I like. Aside from that and the fact that my vacation plans to meet James Ransone have been ruined, I am okay otherwise. Just sad, and disappointed, and ready for all of this to be over, but I hope this finds you well. Take care of yourselves._

**Brave  
**Chapter 14 – I Want That With Richie

At the mere sound of Myra's voice, Richie immediately felt Eddie stiffen against him. It was like someone had flipped a switch, and Richie could feel Eddie's muscles tightening and straining under his fingers. It was a tenseness seeping back into Eddie that had been gone for two entire days, ever since Richie had helped him change his bandages the first time and Eddie had completely relaxed into his grip. Not even those assholes at the Kissing Bridge had made that stiffness return, but now with just a few words from Myra, it was back out of nowhere.

Fuck that woman, because Jesus Christ, how dare she undo all the progress Eddie was making with one stupid phone call? Richie had the crazy urge to grab the phone off the bed, scream at Myra to leave Eddie alone, and hang up. In the end, however, he didn't, because Richie knew that Eddie had things to sort out with her in order to get the divorce underway. The sooner that happened, the sooner he and Eddie could settle into their life together.

And the sooner Eddie could truly move forward and learn how to be his own person rather than an extension of his mother or Myra. And he was doing that. He _had_ been doing that, until Myra reached out and tried to dig her fingers into him again.

"Myra," Eddie said stiltedly, gently pushing himself up. He crawled off of Richie, who almost moaned at the loss of contact, before grabbing up his phone from where it lay on the mattress.

Eddie made his way to the other side of the bed, sitting down on the edge. Richie didn't like it, because Eddie was facing away from him and it almost seemed like he was trying to put distance between himself and Richie. Or was Richie just imagining that? Was it the enormous feeling of jealousy rising up in Richie's chest that was making him see things that weren't really there? In reality, Richie knew there was nothing to be jealous of, but he still didn't like Myra thinking she had any semblance of a relationship left with Eddie at all.

A part of Richie wondered if he should leave the room. Eddie had had more than a few calls with Myra over the last month, and Richie always gave him privacy to do that. This wasn't really any of his business, and Richie almost felt like he was intruding. However, Eddie didn't get up from the bed, nor did he motion for Richie to leave either, so Richie stayed where he was.

No one said anything at first, and Richie wanted to yell at Myra to just get to the fucking point, because he and Eddie had some making out to get back to. Jesus, what was it with that woman that made Richie want to do ridiculous things?

"Who's Bill?" Myra asked accusingly.

Eddie sighed heavily, burying his head in his free hand. "He's a friend. You know, one of the friends I came back here to see in the first place?"

"Yeah," Myra snapped, "the _friends_ that made you change your mind about me."

"They didn't make me do _anything_," Eddie stressed. "This is about _me_. This is about what _I_ want."

A smug smile spread over Richie's features and he sort of wanted to laugh loudly. He wanted to shout that Eddie didn't want Myra any longer, that he wanted _Richie_. Of all the fucking things in the world, he wanted _Richie_. 'You know that crass comedian that Eddie liked to fall asleep to? That's me,' Richie had the urge to say. He had to press the back of his hand against his mouth to stop the words.

Richie honestly didn't know how Eddie could keep a somewhat civil marriage with this woman for so long, because Richie would have pissed her off at least twelve times already during this phone call alone.

But god, Richie was so fucking proud of Eddie. Not so very long ago, Eddie would have easily agreed with Myra and went along with whatever she wanted in the interest of appeasing her. But not any longer; Eddie was finally standing up for what he wanted, and if it was the last thing Richie did, he would make sure that Eddie never, ever settled again just to keep other people happy.

"You were never like this before you went back there – so standoffish, so _cold_ to me," Myra said snottily. "If you would just come home-"

"I'm not coming home," Eddie cut her off. "I already told you that."

"You're going to stay in that _dirty_ little town for the rest of your life?" Myra asked. "You never talked about your childhood a lot, but you made that much abundantly clear – that you absolutely _hated_ that town."

"No, I'm not going to stay here," Eddie said. "I'm-" Eddie stopped, then turned his head and looked out of the corner of his eye to Richie. He smiled before he said, "I've decided I'm going to move out west. I think a change of scenery would do me good."

"What's for you _out west_?" Myra asked. "Is that where _she's_ from?" Myra's voice suddenly grew frantic. "Is that what you're doing? You're shacking up with _her_?"

Eddie's smile grew, but then he pressed his teeth over his bottom lip. He looked away from Richie and pressed a hand over his eyes. "For the thousandth time, Myra, there is no _she_." Eddie paused. "Never has been. Never will be."

Richie couldn't help it – at those words, he reached out a hand and pressed it against the small of Eddie's back. His fingers lingered in between the gap between Eddie's bandages and the waistband of his jeans. Richie had meant the gesture to be a sign of comfort, but a moment later, Eddie leaned forward. This broke the contact between he and Richie, and Eddie scooted forward, closer to the edge of the mattress, until he was out of Richie's reach completely.

Frowning deeply, Richie withdrew his hand like he had been burned. He pulled his hand to his chest, wishing that Eddie would just let Richie offer him some comfort. Again, fuck this woman, because Eddie had never shied away from his touch before. But Richie supposed it was an awkward position to be in – on the phone with Myra while Richie was trying to touch him, because as of late, when had they stopped at simply touching?

"What's for you out west then?" Myra asked. "What are you going to do? Just drive around aimlessly like a little lost puppy? I'm still here for you, Eddie-kins, and you still have a home here."

Eddie noticeably shivered, but now it was out of complete disgust. He ran his hand through his hair before pressing his fingers over his eyes again. "It hasn't been my home for a long time."

Myra was silent for several moments, but then said, "Eddie-"

"Why are you calling, Myra?" Eddie cut her off. His voice was demanding, and Richie could tell he was quickly reaching the extent of his patience with her. "I'm not going to change my mind about coming home, so if that's what this is about, you can stop wasting your time."

"So that's it then?" Myra asked, her tone growing in intensity. She was probably about ten seconds away from screaming. "You're going to dump me like a bunch of trash? Did I ever mean anything at all to you?"

Eddie's shoulders seemed to shrink in on themselves, and he was growing tenser by the second. This made Richie finally sit up on the bed, and he inched across the mattress towards Eddie. Richie knew his previous touch hadn't been welcome, but Richie wanted nothing more than to massage away all the tightness from Eddie forever. It made Richie absolutely furious to know that just one phone call from this woman could do this. Maybe Myra loved Eddie in her own way, but was she really that oblivious to the fact that she made him so unhappy? So uncomfortable in his own skin?

But much like Eddie's mother, Richie knew it had little to do with Eddie and everything to do with Myra and Sonia's need for control.

Richie shuffled up behind Eddie on the bed, folding his legs under him and gently placing his hands on Eddie's shoulders. When Eddie didn't immediately shake them off, Richie starting massaging them softly in an effort to help relax Eddie again. Eddie sucked in a soft breath and then leaned back into Richie's touch the tiniest bit.

"Of course you did," Eddie replied around a sigh. "But things haven't been like that for a long time, and I think you know that."

"Why won't you at least give us a chance to work things out?" Myra asked, and Richie could hear the sobs beginning to edge into her voice. "Don't I deserve at least that much from you?"

"It has nothing to do with what you do or don't deserve," Eddie said firmly. "As I said, this has _everything_ to do with _me_. _Me_, Myra." He huffed out a breath before he said, "That's not a word that I've used a lot during our marriage, is it? But I think it's finally time that I do, because…it's been a very long time since _I've_ been happy."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Myra asked, "And are you so happy now?" The question was accusing and snippy, like she was daring Eddie to try and be happy without her.

"Yeah," Eddie replied easily. He reached up his free hand towards his shoulder, finding Richie's fingers and pressing his own over them. "I really am. I'm happier than I've been in a long time."

Myra didn't say anything for a very long time, but then she asked, "And does my happiness mean nothing to you anymore?"

Eddie opened his mouth, but then shut it again almost immediately. He covered his mouth for a moment before he said, "Not at the expense of my own, no." More silence fell between them, but then Eddie added, "I can't…I'm not responsible for your happiness."

"But you owe me a chance to try and work things out," Myra replied firmly. "I've found a marriage counselor here who's willing to fit us into her busy schedule."

"Myra," Eddie said, his voice beginning to quiver in anger. "It isn't something that can be…_fixed_ with _counseling_. I've _told_ you that. A person's feelings don't work that way. _I _don't work that way."

"Well, you seemed pretty happy with me until you went out _there_," Myra said. "And then you left to spend time with those _friends_ of yours and now you're a completely different person. What happened to my little Eddie-kins?"

Eddie let out an exasperated sigh. He stared up at the ceiling and leaned back even more, pressing his back into Richie's touch. "I've changed," Eddie said. "I'll be the first one to admit that. I'm not the same person you married and I can't pretend-"

"And I can't give you a divorce," Myra cut him off. "Not if you won't try and work things out with me first. You owe me that much, Edward Kaspbrak. Come home and we'll go to counseling. We'll try and work through this."

Eddie scoffed. "You're not listening to me! You can't blackmail me into staying married to you. I'm not coming home and I'm not going to counseling with you! There is absolutely nothing left to work out! You know we've been beyond that stage for a very long time now, and the sooner you admit that, the easier this will be for the both of us." Eddie lifted his free hand into the air, holding it vertically and using it to emphasize each of his points.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Myra asked. "You'd like it if I just signed on the line, gave you a nice and easy divorce, and just sent you on your way to be with _her_. Well, our marriage means more to me than that. It's more than just a piece of trash to be thrown away, and I for one am going to fight for it, even if you won't."

Without warning, Eddie pulled out of Richie's grasp and was on his feet a moment later. He began pacing the room as he said, "There's nothing left to fight for and there is no _she_! How many times do I have to tell you that?! Jesus Christ, are you listening to yourself?"

"Don't you _dare_ take that tone with me, Edward," Myra bit out. "I'm not going to let you treat me like this!"

"I'm past the point of taking orders from you," Eddie said, his voice suddenly and ridiculously calm now. It was almost like he was trying to talk to a child in the middle of tantrum, using a quiet tone to try and get the child to stop screaming. It seemed like something he was accustomed to using after so many years. "I'm past the point of being _controlled_ and there is absolutely nothing you can say that's going to make me change my mind. You can't keep me locked in this sham of a marriage."

Eddie paused for a long time. At first, Richie thought it was for effect, but then Eddie's face contorted into a grimace. He let his phone fall to his side for a moment, sucking in a shallow and shuddering breath, a noise that hurt Richie's heart to hear. Goddamn this woman and what she was putting this absolutely beautiful man through.

Eddie shook his head and choked in another breath before he brought his phone back up towards his face. "I'm sorry, but it's over, Myra, and that's final."

When Myra spoke again, her voice was low and steady, something that Richie hadn't quite heard from her yet. "It isn't over until I say it is," she whispered.

A moment later, Richie could see the words '_call ended_' illuminated on Eddie's phone. Eddie let his phone drop to his side again as he made his way over to the dresser. The very same dresser where Eddie had been sitting while he and Richie had been making out. Had that really only been a mere half an hour ago? Because it felt like a million things had changed since then, and it barely felt like it had happened in the same _day_, let alone the same hour.

Eddie set his phone down on the dresser before he rested his hands flat on the surface of the wood. He leaned forward, gasping for air, his face screwed up in an expression of pain. A moment later, he was rifling through some of the items on top of the dresser with shaking hands. He tipped over his bottle of painkillers, nearly sending it to the floor. After he got it set upright, however, he only succeeded in knocking over his deodorant, which caused a domino effect. Richie's own deodorant fell over, which crashed into Eddie's hand sanitizer and lotion bottles.

"Where the fuck is my inhaler?!" Eddie asked, suddenly sounding in an absolute panic, just like he had when those abominations had started coming out of the fortune cookies at the Jade of the Orient. He was trying to fix the bottles he had knocked over for all the good it did; his hands were shaking way too much to even set them upright.

"Hey," Richie said, jumping up off the bed. He hurried over to Eddie, placing his hands on Eddie's shoulders from behind. "Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Eddie shook his head furiously, gasping for air through his mouth. "I can't – she – _fuck_." Eddie continued his labored gasping in between his words, and it was clear he had no idea what he was even trying to say. "I…I need my fucking inhaler!"

Richie let his hands drift down Eddie's back, reaching them around to Eddie's front. He stepped up closer behind Eddie, pressing his chest up against Eddie's back, hoping that the contact would help to calm Eddie. Richie buried his nose into Eddie's hair and said, "Breathe with me, okay?"

Eddie shook his head again, still sucking short and loud gasps in through his mouth. Eddie's entire body was shaking, his heart pounding impossibly hard underneath Richie's fingers on his chest.

"Come on," Richie said gently. "In through your nose." He stopped, taking a large breath through his nose, holding it, and letting it out slowly. "Do it with me this time. Come on. Please."

Hesitating for a few more moments, Eddie pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, sucking in a shuddering breath through his nose.

"In through your nose," Richie said. "That's it." He took his own deep breath, pressing his chest into Eddie's back even more firmly, so that Eddie could feel Richie breathing in time with him. "And let it out." Richie let out a long and slow breath as Eddie followed suit. "Let's do it again. Breathe in with me. Come on."

Richie stopped talking after that, simply holding Eddie close as they breathed in and out together. Richie kept his hands splayed across Eddie's chest, feeling his heartrate slow and the quivering in Eddie's body begin to subside. Eddie had clenched his hands into fists somewhere along the line, and he was gradually unclenching those as well until his hands were hanging loosely at his sides.

After several minutes, Eddie leaned back into Richie, bringing his hands up to place them over Richie's. Richie simply held him like that for a while, waiting until Eddie's breathing returned to normal.

Eddie opened his eyes, and it was then that he realized that Richie was using the mirror on top of the dresser to stare at him intently. This seemed to embarrass Eddie for some reason and he looked away, his cheeks growing red.

"Thank you," Eddie said quietly, still not meeting Richie's eyes.

"Anytime," Richie replied, pressing a kiss to the back of Eddie's head.

Bringing a hand up to his eyes, Eddie rubbed at them harshly. "I'm sorry you had to hear that." Eddie swallowed hard and added, "I'm fucking sorry you had to see what that woman does to me."

Richie shook his head, still not taking his eyes off of Eddie's face in the mirror. "All the more reason we need to get you away from her. Bitch _really_ isn't good for you."

At his words, Richie felt Eddie stiffen in his arms. Richie only had a few seconds to wonder what it was he said before Eddie spoke.

"Richie."

"What?"

Eddie pulled away from him and returned to the bed, sinking down onto the edge of the mattress. Eddie stared down at the grey carpet underneath his feet, a deep frown growing to consume his features.

Richie wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he didn't. He simply leaned into the edge of the dresser, waiting for Eddie to speak.

After nearly a minute, Eddie finally lifted his head, meeting Richie's eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Richie asked, pushing himself away from the dresser. He joined Eddie on the bed, sitting down on the mattress next to him.

Eddie let out a heavy sigh, staring up at the ceiling, and Richie thought he could see the smallest hint of tears in Eddie's eyes. "This," Eddie said, gesturing between them. "Putting up with this shit."

"Fuck, Eds," Richie said. He lifted a hand from his thigh and raised it, meaning to place it on Eddie's shoulder, but then he thought better of it. He returned the hand to his thigh before he said, "I told you, I _love_ you. I want to be with you, and _nothing_ is going to make these feelings go away. You're stuck with me now."

"And stuck with a fucking crazy ex-wife and my fucked up ass," Eddie muttered, pressing a hand to his eyes again. He shook his head and said, "You don't need to do this. I don't get why you'd _want_ to do this – put up with all of this shit. You heard Myra – she's going to fight me every step of the way on this and it's going to be a long fucking time before I'll be…free."

"Because this is what you do when you love someone," Richie said simply. He leaned forward, taking Eddie's hand to pull it away from his face. When Eddie finally met his gaze again, Richie added, "We're going to get through this together – your crazy ex-wife, and your long ass divorce, and your issues, and _my_ fucked up ass, because believe me, you're not the only one who has issues. Let's not forget that I've only now been able to admit that I'm gay after forty fucking years."

"I know," Eddie replied, "but Jesus, Rich. This…this is a lot of fucking baggage, you know? You heard her – she's not letting me go without a fight."

Richie shrugged. "Neither am I."

Eddie turned to face Richie, glancing up at him, his eyes wide. There was a faint shimmer of tears there again, and Eddie's chest was moving a bit more quickly with every breath in and out. "You…you really want me that much?" Eddie asked. "That you're willing to fight for me?"

"Um, yeah," Richie said simply. "You think I spent thirty fucking years pining over you just for the hell of it? If Myra wants a fight, then she's got it. I killed a goddamn psychopath _and_ a fucking space clown in the span of a couple hours. Believe me, your crazy ass wife is nothing, and she has no fucking clue what a crass comedian like me is capable of. They don't call me Trashmouth for nothing."

Letting out a soft laugh, Eddie leaned into Richie's shoulder. Richie immediately wrapped his arm around Eddie, pulling him tightly against him.

"I just want to _be_ with you," Eddie whispered against Richie's neck. "Like you said, why does all hell have to break loose? I don't know why it can't just fucking happen already. Haven't we waited long enough? Haven't we put up with enough shit? You'd think that killing that goddamn space clown and almost losing my life in the process would be enough bullshit to last a lifetime."

Richie took a deep breath, running his hand up and down Eddie's arm. "I know. But…we've already discussed this – you trust me, right?"

"You know I do. More than anyone."

"Then believe me when I say that I want to be with you too," Richie said, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie's head. "Nothing's going to scare me away from that – not bigots, not your wife, and not any of your issues. I'm in this for the long haul, okay? I'm going to marry you someday, you know." The words were out of Richie's mouth before he could scarcely even process then, and he mentally kicked himself.

Eddie grew still and quiet against him. It was a while before he asked, "You really want that?"

"Fuck, yes," Richie said, even as his heart gave an uncomfortable thump in his chest. Was marriage even something that Eddie ever wanted to think about again? Had Richie finally overstepped his bounds and made Eddie uncomfortable by suggesting something so serious so soon? Richie swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that had settled in his throat. "You're the love of my life, Eds. Of course I want to marry you."

"I…" Eddie began before trailing off again. "I mean, you joked about inviting James to the wedding while I was in the hospital, but…I thought it was just that – a joke. I didn't know you were being serious."

Richie pulled away from Eddie, reaching his hand up and cupping Eddie's cheek. When Eddie met his eyes, Richie said, "I am. It's my fucking dream to spend the rest of my life with you. And yes, that includes marrying you." Richie stopped, searching Eddie's gaze, waiting for any sort of sign that Richie wasn't completely going out on a limb. "Is…is that something _you_ want?"

"Oh, Richie," Eddie gasped, leaning his forehead against Richie's. A small smile grew to encompass Eddie's lips before he said, "I've wanted to marry you since I was…fifteen, I think." Eddie squinted his eyes in thought. "Yeah, isn't that when your aunt got married and you dragged me along to the wedding?"

Richie laughed, the memory suddenly rushing back to him so quickly, it almost felt like a tidal wave of long-buried feelings. "It was the summer after I turned sixteen, so yeah."

* * *

_"__Jesus Christ, Rich," Eddie complained, pushing at Richie's arm. "Get the fuck off of me."_

_Richie only tightened his arm around Eddie's shoulders and said, "Do you think anyone will ever marry us Losers?"_

_"__Definitely not you," Eddie replied grumpily. "No one could stand you for that long."_

_Eddie tried to ignore the fact that Richie's arm was still around his shoulders and he showed no signs of moving it. Eddie sat stiff in his chair and stared out at the dance floor, trying not to think about Richie's fingers and the way they kept brushing against his upper arm. Truth be told, Eddie wanted nothing more than to lean into Richie and reach up to thread his fingers through Richie's. But Jesus Christ, they were in public, and Richie was only being an asshole. Eddie knew Richie certainly didn't mean this gesture in any sort of romantic way and was only doing to annoy Eddie._

_Eddie sighed heavily as he watched Richie's aunt and her new husband cling to each other on the dance floor. It was probably the stupidest thought he'd ever had, but the same words kept running through Eddie's mind: _I want that and I want that with Richie.

_Talk about a pipe dream, because Eddie knew that nothing was more unattainable. Aside from the fact that he knew Richie would never want him in that way, it wasn't like Eddie could ever marry Richie even if they both really wanted it. Because this world was fucked up, and people like Eddie couldn't be themselves._

_"__What's wrong, Spaghetti?" Richie asked in a slightly teasing tone, leaning his head towards Eddie. "Not having a good time? Don't like being my date?"_

_Eddie stiffened under Richie's arm, because fuck. Was that what they were doing here? Were they on a _date_? Because no, that was ridiculous. Richie had only begged and pleaded with Eddie to come with him, because he said he would be bored out of his mind otherwise. Eddie _knew_ Richie certainly didn't mean this as a date, but the truth was, that was what Eddie wanted it to be. He wanted it to be a date, and he wanted to be able to relax into Richie's grip like it was completely normal. But that would never happen._

_Eddie shrugged, staring down at his hands clasped together nervously in his lap. Didn't Richie realize what he was fucking doing? Didn't he realize the things that his arm slung around Eddie's shoulders was making him feel? Obviously not, because Richie was the most oblivious creature on the face of the planet._

_"__Weddings kind of depress me sometimes," Eddie admitted after a while, because that was true. Because he knew he'd never be able to have the one person in the world he really wanted. He'd never be able to stand in a room full of people, clinging to Richie and kissing him as they danced. Richie would never want that and the rest of the world would never want that either._

_"__Eh, don't worry," Richie said, his head still leaning in towards Eddie in that awkward way of his. "There's someone for everyone. I mean, if I decided to fuck your mother of all people, you'll find someone easy."_

_"__Beep beep, Riche," Eddie said, giving Riche's arm one last firm push and finally dislodging it from its resting place on his shoulders. "You're so gross." A moment of silence fell between them, punctuated by the soft music playing and the din of conversations going on around them. Eddie snorted and said, "No one would ever want me anyway. I have too many fucking mommy issues."_

_Richie didn't reply at first, and Eddie considered the subject dropped. But then, after nearly a minute, Richie whispered, "I think you'd be surprised, Eds."_

* * *

"Was…was that a date?" Eddie asked, leaning back and staring at Richie intently. "I thought you were just being an asshole, but…was that our first date?"

Richie could feel his cheeks growing warm, a strange feeling coming to life in his chest. It was like he was embarrassed that Eddie finally figured that shit out, even if it had taken him twenty-five years. "I…I guess it was," Richie said around a laugh. "And I knew it would be safe, because my family already knew how touchy-feely we could be sometimes, you know? I…can't believe I felt comfortable enough to put my arm around you like that in front of so many people, but…yeah. I knew I could just play it off as trying to annoy you, so that was what I did." Richie suddenly found himself grinning. "And I had no idea you were wishing that it could be us up on the dance floor."

"I did," Eddie said, pressing his forehead against Richie's once more. "'I want that and I want that with Richie.' That was all I kept thinking. I still remember it like it was yesterday, those fucking words going through my mind over and over again. Even after I got home that night, that was all I could think about. I laid in my bed until after fucking one o'clock in the morning, imagining that it could be us dancing on our wedding day." Eddie's cheeks flushed red again and he turned away. "And that sounds so stupid, doesn't it?"

Richie reached out, placing a hand on Eddie's cheek and directing his gaze back towards him. "No," Richie said, shaking his head firmly. His eyes were burning with tears, and he blinked, trying to keep them at bay. "I can't believe you actually wanted me in that way and…that you still want me." Richie swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump that had settled into his throat. He ran his thumb against Eddie's bottom lip. "I'm going to make your dream come true, Eds, if you let me. It _is_ going to be us someday on the dance floor at our wedding. I want that more than I've ever wanted anything."

Eddie's bottom lip quivered under Richie's thumb just before he leaned forward, pressing his lips against Richie's. He kissed him hard and fiercely, bringing his hands up against Richie's cheeks.

"Yeah," Eddie replied thickly when the kiss broke, "yeah, that's something I want. Like you wouldn't believe."

"Then we'll get there," Richie said firmly. "No matter how much shit life throws at us – no matter how many space clowns, or crazy exes, or bigots – I swear I'm going to marry you and nothing's going to stop me. Okay?"

Eddie nodded, tucking his head underneath Richie's chin and relaxing into his arms like he hadn't been able to do all those years ago. Like he never thought he'd be able to do. Like he never thought Richie would _want_ him to do.

Richie held him tightly back, running a hand up and down Eddie's back, reveling in the fact that Eddie's breathing was calm again. That Eddie was completely relaxed against him in a way that Myra would never see him, not even if her fucking life depended on it. It completely boggled Richie's mind that so many women just wanted to control him and force him into a little box he didn't belong in. Eddie was the fucking man of his dreams, and nothing made Richie happier than letting him be himself. Richie completely loved everything about Eddie, of course, but nothing made Richie prouder than knowing that Eddie could be his true self with him.

Eddie could be brave, and calm, and relaxed, and funny, and loving in ways that Myra would never know, and goddamn, that was her loss. Why would anyone want to change Eddie when they could have him…like this? It made absolutely no sense to Richie.

Sniffling, Eddie pulled away, rubbing at his eyes and nose.

"Okay?" Richie asked.

Eddie nodding, smiling at Richie through the tears that had formed in his eyes. "Yeah. I'm just going to take a piss and splash some water on my face." Eddie pressed a quick kiss to Richie's cheek before he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom.

Richie waited until the bathroom door closed before scrambling across the mattress to his side of the bed. He grabbed his phone from the bedside table and quickly found Mike's name in his contacts, sending him a text message.

_Richie (11:01 AM): Can I use you for an alibi?_

_Mike (11:02 AM):_ _Aw fuck, man. Did you murder someone again? Do I need to help you get rid of the body?_

_Richie (11:02 AM): Haha. No, I want to get a surprise for Eddie, but I don't want him to know. I was going to tell him I'm helping you pack or move boxes or some shit._

_Mike (11:03 AM): As long as you don't put me in the middle of this shit and get me caught in a lie. When are you planning on doing this?_

_Richie (11:03 AM): Tomorrow morning around this time, so make yourself scarce until after lunch. I'll let you know when I'm done and you can come out of hiding._

_Mike (11:04 AM): Yeah, I guess I can do that._

_Richie: (11:04 AM): Thanks, man. You're the best._

Richie quickly closed the conversation and set his phone back down on the table. He climbed off the bed and went back to the dresser, digging out the t-shirt he had planned on wearing that day. He pulled it on over his head just as Eddie was emerging from the bathroom.

Eddie looked a bit better than he had before. His face was still a bit flushed, damp from where he had splashed water on it, but he now seemed to be completely calm and relaxed.

"Hey, man," Richie said, leaning back against the dresser again and crossing his arms over his chest. "Mike just texted me and asked if I could help him pack up and move some of his shit tomorrow. He's getting ready to get the fuck out of this town, and he wants to go as soon as you're clear to leave as well."

"I hope you know I can't help you move any shit," Eddie said, sitting down the end of the mattress. "I'm on strict orders not to do any heavy lifting until I'm done healing."

Richie tried to hide his smile, because he had been counting on the fact that Eddie wouldn't want to come with him. "No, I know. I thought you could sleep in while I go do that, and then…how about we do something tomorrow night?"

Richie still wasn't even entirely sure what he had planned or if he would carry through with his tentative ideas just yet, but he still thought it was high time that he and Eddie had their first official date.

"What did you have in mind?" Eddie asked curiously, his eyes large and round as he watched Richie.

Shrugging, Richie moved to sit down next to Eddie once more. "No idea. Just…dinner or something? We still haven't had an actual date yet – unless you count my aunt's wedding – and I'd like to correct that."

Eddie smiled, leaning into Richie's shoulder just like he had before. "Me too." Eddie found Richie's hand where it was resting on his thigh, threading his fingers through Richie's. "I love you, Richie."

"I love you. So fucking much," Richie said. "And I'm going to love you forever, whether your stupid ass wife likes it or not." Richie brought Eddie's hand up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Chuckling against Richie's neck, Eddie let out a relaxed breath and asked, "Promise?"

"I promise, Eds," Richie said firmly. "I know I'm full of shit a lot, but I'm dead serious about this, okay? I'm going to spend forever with you as long as you don't get sick of me first." Richie could feel Eddie smiling against his skin, his breath slow and warm.

"If that's a challenge, I accept."

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: And Myra is not getting any easier to write. Now I know why it's been so long since we've seen her. It was a struggle getting through the first part of the chapter so I could get back to my boys. Good lord, that woman. :P_


	15. Chapter 15: The Fire Opal

Author's note: I hope this chapter still finds all of you well! I'm still here and I'm still exhausted from being an essential worker, but everything is okay otherwise. Hang in there, keep taking care of yourselves, and I hope this cheers you up if you're feeling down!

**Brave  
**Chapter 15 – The Fire Opal

Both Ben and Bev were sitting at the bar in the lounge the next morning when Richie descended the stairs in his pajamas. In what was quickly becoming one of his favorite morning traditions, Richie had just left a still sleepy Eddie in bed while he went to get them some coffee and bagels.

The three mumbled pleasantries to each other while Richie took his customary seat at the bar and poured himself a cup of coffee. As he was stirring his usual three scoops of sugar into it, he said, "So, um…change of plans."

Ben and Bev looked up at him from their own cups of coffee, staring at him curiously.

"This is absolutely ridiculous and I realize that," Richie said, running his hands through his still messy hair. "But when have I ever done anything that makes the least bit of sense?" He paused for a moment and rubbed his hands on his knees before he said, "I'm just going to do it – I'm going to buy Eddie an engagement ring."

Bev hadn't even been present yesterday when Richie had first revealed his idea of buying a ring for Eddie, and her eyebrows went up and her mouth dropped open in an expression of surprise. Ben, meanwhile, was staring at Richie questioningly, like he had somehow missed a part of the conversation, and Richie supposed he had.

"Yeah, um, I know this is completely out of the blue," Richie told them, "but Eddie and I talked about some things yesterday, and we both admitted that we _really_ want to get married. I mean, I know it's still going to be a while before his divorce is finalized and we're free to even _get_ married, but…thirty fucking years of hiding our feelings is enough. I really just want him to know that I'm serious about this. That I'm serious about him."

Bev's expression suddenly morphed into a smile, and she reached out to lay hand on Richie's arm. "Oh, Richie, as long as you're both happy, then you know we support you."

Richie smiled. "Thanks. Especially since Eddie can't seem to wrap his head around the fact that I want this just as much as he does." Richie sighed, hanging his head and staring down at his hands still in his lap. "He's so certain I'll just up and leave and…_fuck_. That's the last thing I want. And I keep telling him so, but I don't know if he completely believes me."

"Well, look at the shit he's had to put up with," Ben pointed out. He had rested his head in his hand as he watched Richie. "A mother who habitually lied to him about his entire existence. A parent should be one of the foundations for trust in your life, and that was completely shattered for him. That fucks up a person for a long time, so yeah, Eddie's going to have trust issues."

"And his wife isn't helping," Richie muttered. "She called yesterday and I was in the room with him. I heard the whole thing and…that woman is so fucking _manipulative_. The way she plays the victim in their marriage and tries to guilt trip Eddie into staying with her. It's fucked up beyond belief, and I'm just glad he realizes now how unhealthy it is."

"Thanks to you," Bev said around a smile. "He can finally see now what a healthy relationship can be like and how a proper loving partner should treat him."

Richie returned the smile, even if it was a little somber. "Yeah. I just don't know why he has such a hard time believing that I want to spend the rest of my life with him." Richie frowned deeply.

"It'll come in time," Bev told him. "It's not something that can be forced. Just keep reassuring him whenever he expresses doubts, and…just be honest with him. His trust in you will grow and he'll realize you're not going anywhere."

"I hope so," Richie said around a sigh. "I know there aren't any quick fixes for this shit and it's going to take some time, but I absolutely hate the thought that he's stressed out over my commitment." Richie snorted, because it was the most absurd thought to him. "There has never been anything else I've ever wanted _but_ him. Except for maybe a career where I can make a living making people laugh, and I already have that. Eddie worries about enough as it is, and the last thing he needs to be concerned about is me. About whether or not I'm going to stay."

"We've all known that forever," Ben said around a smile. "You two are just behind the times, but he'll catch up."

"Why didn't you people just come out and tell us?!" Richie asked in exasperation, throwing his hands up. "Jesus Christ, do you realize how much time we could have saved if you just locked us in a room together until we admitted our feelings?"

"Mm," Bev hummed as she considered this, taking a sip of her coffee. "That only happens in those stupid sitcoms."

"The way they fight to cover up the fact that they're flirting is straight out of a sitcom," Ben said around a snicker.

"Yeah," Bev agreed, "but they probably would have just killed each other first. I wouldn't lock the two of them in anywhere together."

"Especially where there's sharp objects," Ben added. "Eddie is a savage with sharp objects."

"But you could have at least told us," Richie complained. "Instead you just let us dance around each other until Eddie had enough of that shit." Richie smiled warmly at the memory when Eddie had told him to sit down, and shut the fuck up, and then had kissed him fiercely on his hospital bed.

"Same goes for you guys, too," Bev replied. "When was anyone going to remind me it was Ben that wrote me that poem when we were little?" She leaned forward, letting her head thump against the bar in front of her. "Instead, you let me believe it was Bill again, and I looked like a fucking dumbass."

"It's fine," Ben said, grinning. He reached out a hand and laid it on top of Bev's back, running it over the fabric of her shirt. "We all figured out eventually that we're a bunch of dumbasses. Nothing new."

"Yeah," Richie said dryly. "Anyway, I'm going to the jewelry store this morning," he whispered, but then he paused. He took a moment to look back over his shoulder, checking to make sure that Eddie hadn't decided to join them. When he turned back to Ben and Bev, Richie's voice was still low as he said, "I told Eddie that I'm going to help Mike pack and move boxes this afternoon, and Mike is going to stay at the library until I'm done. I'd appreciate if you guys went along with that in case Eddie says anything."

It was Bev's turn to grin. "Aw, you know we won't say anything."

"Just don't get us caught in a lie, man," Ben said. "We're too old for that shit."

Richie smiled. "That's what Mike said."

"So when are you going to ask him?" Bev asked, leaning towards Richie, her voice rising in excitement.

Richie frowned in thought. "I don't know. I had this insane thought that I was going to do it tonight, but…I feel like I might chicken out. I mean, I know we both want this, but maybe I should think about this for a while. Plan something really romantic. And let that conversation he had with Myra yesterday fade away a bit." Richie shivered visibly. "I don't want it to be overshadowed by that, but…I think I want to do it before we leave Derry at any rate. I don't know why, but…it feels appropriate to do it here – where there's so many memories for us."

"Yeah," Ben agreed, a smile ghosting across his own lips. "Let us know if you need any help with anything."

"Actually," Richie said, "I still want to have a romantic dinner or something with Eddie tonight. We haven't fucking had our first date yet, and I think it's high time we do. I'm just not sure where I could take him. Where's a nice restaurant in this shithole town?"

Bev hummed as she considered this, propping her head up in her hand. "There really isn't a nice place to take a date, is there? McDonald's was fine when we were kids, but god, what did our parents ever do?" she asked around a giggle. "You know, that's probably one of the reasons why it took so long for us to admit our feelings for each other – no sense of romance in this town."

"You know what I think?" Ben asked. "I think you're better off getting take-out and doing your own thing…like just having a picnic outside or something. It's still warm enough for that, and you'd win points for originality instead of just taking him to a plain old restaurant."

"Now I know all your secrets," Bev said, leaning her shoulder into Ben's and grinning at him.

Ben kissed her before he glanced at Richie over her head. "See?" Ben asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Just the idea wins you points, let alone the actual execution."

Bev giggled, but then she straightened up in her seat. "Actually, maybe not a picnic, but…" Bev suddenly shut her mouth, turning to face Richie fully. "You know what? You'll be busy shopping for the ring, so let me take care of dinner for you guys tonight, okay? I promise it'll be romantic."

Richie raised an eyebrow at her questioningly. "What did you have in mind?"

"You'll see," Bev said, winking at him. She suddenly turned and grabbed Ben's arm, yanking him up out of his chair and towards the stairs. "Leave it to us!" she called as she started whispering ideas to Ben on their way up to the second floor of the townhouse.

Richie watched them go, letting his head sink into his hand as he smiled in contentment. How had he ever been stupid enough to believe that his friends would _hate_ him for simply _loving_ Eddie? Because, Jesus, they were actually helping him plan a romantic date night with Eddie. Not even in his wildest dreams did Richie ever imagine he'd end up here.

His thoughts drifted to Eddie next, sleeping upstairs in _his_ bed, and Richie didn't think he'd ever have that either. When had things so very suddenly fit into place for Richie, like the last pieces of a puzzle being slotted in? When had the universe suddenly decided that he should have everything he'd ever wanted?

The last things Richie could possibly want were to be married to Eddie and to be out to the public in general. To be out and proud, like Eddie said his gay friend in college, Aaron was. Those things would come in time, he knew, but for right now…he couldn't possibly want for more, and that thought made his eyes well up with tears.

Richie slumped over in his seat, letting the tears fall. To an outsider, it might have looked like Richie was sad, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Richie was the fucking happiest he'd ever been in his life, and he was simply trying to comprehend when in the hell he had gotten so lucky.

He was so consumed in his tears, he didn't hear the tiny footsteps on the stairs.

* * *

Long after Richie had gone to help Mike pack and move boxes, Eddie laid in the bed he shared with Richie. He kept sighing heavily, staring up at the ceiling like it held the answer to some ages-old puzzle. Christ, Eddie finally had everything he had spent his life wishing for, but he couldn't quite relax. Couldn't quite just be happy in the moment, because his mind was running into overdrive like it usually did. Because things kept happening that made Eddie question everything.

Eddie hadn't mentioned the fact that he had seen Richie crying downstairs. Eddie had quickly returned to their room and pretended like it hadn't happened. But that image sat and festered in his mind, like a picture burned into a piece of wood – Richie slumped over at the bar, tears pouring down his cheeks.

If what Richie had told Eddie yesterday was true, then Richie was the happiest he'd ever been in his life, so what could he have been crying about? Was it something about Myra? Was it something with the conversation that had taken place between them yesterday? Was it simply Richie being concerned about Eddie being a nervous wreck? But deep down, Eddie knew that that wasn't the problem. As was always the issue in his life, Eddie knew that he was the problem. He was the fucking problem for Richie, and as much as Eddie didn't want to believe it, Richie was just now realizing the mistake that he had made in all of this, wasn't he?

Frowning deeply, but telling himself that he wasn't going to cry, Eddie gingerly reached for his phone on his bedside table, careful not to pull at his stitches. Eddie went into his contacts, glad that Bill's name was near the top of the list as he tapped on his name.

"Hey, Eds," Bill's voice came through his phone a moment later. "What's up?"

"Do…do you have a few minutes to talk? Am I bothering you?" Eddie asked tentatively, suddenly not even sure if he should be voicing his concerns at all. He was being stupid like always, and he knew that, but in the end, Eddie knew Bill would understand; aside from Richie, Bill was his best friend.

"No, man," Bill said. "Just working on my new book, but I'm not busy. What's up?"

Eddie was quiet for a long time before he said, "I feel like an asshole."

"Why? What's going on?" Bill asked, the curiosity apparent in his voice.

"Tell me I'm being stupid."

"Uh, stupid about what exactly?" Bill asked. "You're going to have to be a bit more specific, because yes, you're stupid a fucking lot."

"Fuck off," Eddie retorted, although there was no real fire in his voice. "You said…when you found out about me and Richie, you said you weren't surprised."

"Not at all," Bill told him. "I saw it coming a mile away and I doubt I was the only one."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed. "That's what the other Losers said too. That this wasn't news to them, because they've known it ever since we were kids." Eddie paused, squinting up at the ceiling in thought. "So why didn't I ever see it? Not until Richie admitted his feelings to me in the hospital."

"Cause you're fucking stupid."

"Bill-"

"No, seriously," Bill cut him off gently. "Look, it's same reason why Ben and Bev didn't realize they were destined to be together until last month either. I think…you just want something so badly, but you convince yourself that it's never going to happen. Trying to put the thought out of your mind altogether seems like the best course of action, because something like love is so consuming and it's hard to function otherwise. Then you end up missing a lot of signs that impartial third parties are probably picking up on. Believe me, I know." When Eddie didn't reply, Bill asked, "Why? What's bothering you?"

"I just…" Eddie began, but then he trailed off. He ran his free hand through his hair. "I'm so fucked up, Bill." Eddie cringed at his words, at the way they sounded so small and desperate. He doubted it was the response Bill had been anticipating, but his friend didn't hesitate in his answer.

"We all are."

"No, but…why would _anyone_ want someone as fucked up as I am?" Eddie asked, clenching his hand into a fist and pressing it into the mattress underneath him in embarrassment. He knew he had issues. The rest of the Losers knew he had issues, but Eddie tried not to make a habit out of crying over them. "Why would _Richie_ want someone as fucked up as I am?" he asked next, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's a fucking successful, famous comedian and I'm…just a mess."

"Why would Audra want someone as fucked up as _I_ am?" Bill asked him in response. "You think I've been the easiest person in the world to love? Having your little brother murdered by a fucking space clown will do that to a person. As does having Sonia Kaspbrak for a mother, I'd imagine."

"I'm sorry, Bill," Eddie immediately apologized for bringing up these issues for his friend all over again.

"No!" Bill exclaimed. "I didn't mean it like that. You know you can talk to me about anything. That includes G-Georgie. Nothing is off-limits to us. But I had those same thoughts too. Audra is a fucking beautiful, successful _movie star_. Why would she want someone like me?" Bill let out a soft laugh. "But love isn't rational. We don't choose who we fall in love with."

"I know we don't, but…we can choose who to _be_ with," Eddie pointed out. "So why would Richie choose me? He could go back to LA, and work on his career, and be free of my issues-"

"Richie is your _friend_, first and foremost," Bill interrupted him. "We're all your friends. You have to know by now that your problems are our problems. It's been that way ever since we were kids. It's why you guys didn't let me go to look for Georgie alone, despite all your arguments to the contrary."

"Okay," Eddie said, "so he's not going to completely write me off. But that still doesn't explain why he would choose me for a lover of all things – someone that he has to _take care of_. It's like having a big, giant child around forever, and that's fucking fucked up."

"No, it isn't," Bill said softly. "When you love someone, that's not what it's about, and I know that from personal experience. And I know Richie loves you, because I've seen the way he looks at you, okay?" Bill let out of gentle breath of exasperation that sounded like a muffled puff through the speakers. "You should have seen the way he looked at you in the hospital, when we weren't sure if you were going to make it or not. Hell, you should have seen the fucking wreck he was. You wouldn't believe how much time he spent sitting on your bed, holding your hand and crying, because he thought you were going to die."

Eddie blinked at this revelation, then he tried to reconcile the image of Richie crying on his bed with the one of Richie sitting at the bar downstairs. "He…he was wreck?" Eddie asked. "He fucking _cried_? Over _me _possibly_ dying_?"

"A lot," Bill admitted. "And I walked in on him once going on and on about his feelings for you, and about how much he regretted all the time he wasted not confessing them to you sooner." Bill paused before he added, "That fucking asshole _loves_ you and he _wants_ to be with you, if that's what you're asking."

Eddie was silent for a very long time, trying to process everything Bill was telling him. Eddie tried to imagine Richie crying over him on his hospital bed, but he could quite do it. At the same time, however, Eddie knew that Bill would never lie to him about this. Not to mention, Bill hadn't been the only one to overhear such things.

"You think so?" Eddie asked after a while, his voice hopeful.

"I _know_ he does," Bill said firmly. "And I know it's hard to believe that any of us are loveable sometimes, but there's no one Richie loves more than you. You don't need to worry."

"But I do worry," Eddie said regretfully. "It's what I do."

"Have…have you talked to Richie about your feelings?"

"Yes. He just keeps telling me that he's committed to me."

"Then there's your answer."

"And that's why I feel like an asshole, but…" Eddie trailed off, biting at his bottom lip.

"But what?"

"I know Richie wouldn't lie to me," Eddie said, as much for himself as for Bill, "and I feel bad for questioning him about it all the fucking time. Especially after all his reassurances, but…" Eddie paused again for a long time. Bill let him, seemingly letting Eddie collect his thoughts. "I saw him crying this morning."

"And did you ask him what that was about?"

"No," Eddie said, shaking his head, even though Bill couldn't see it. "I couldn't. I…had a phone call from Myra yesterday, and Richie had to talk me down from a panic attack after it, and…he's so fucking sick of me. I know he is. Even though he says he isn't."

"You don't know that unless you ask him." Bill's voice was firm and calm, like he knew that Eddie was just waiting for the slightest hint of uncertainty on his end. "It could have been something with his manager, or maybe he got a phone call from someone else back in LA. You don't know it had the slightest bit to do with you."

"But…" Eddie said again, and he hated the way his voice was shaking. "If it was something like that, he would have told me. He tells me _everything_. Except when it's _about_ me. He's just fucking sick of me and my hypochondriacal, anxiety-laden ass. I know it."

Bill snorted loudly into the phone. "Trust me, if Richie was going to get sick of you, it would have happened already at some point over the last twenty-seven years. If he's still hanging around…it means something."

Despite the fact that it still felt like a giant rock was sitting in the middle of his stomach, Eddie found himself smiling. "Thanks, Bill," Eddie said, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding.

"Yeah," Bill said, then added, "ask him. You'll feel a lot better. Besides, I can tell you from personal experience that if the two of you are hiding things from each other already, it doesn't bode well for the rest of your relationship." Eddie could hear the frown and unhappiness in Bill's voice at those words.

"I know," Eddie said. "In fact, I made Richie promise to me in the hospital that we'd always be open and honest with each other." Eddie let out a loud breath. "A good job we're doing of that."

"_Ask him_," Bill insisted again. "It's probably something he doesn't want you to worry about, that's all. You know how overprotective he is."

"And I'm braver than I think, right?"

"Fuck yeah, you are," Bill answered without missing a beat. "You singlehandedly saved Richie from the Deadlights and took a fucking demon claw through the chest to do it."

This made Eddie's smile deepen, but then something else occurred to him, and the smile was gone. It was something he hadn't even considered before, and the sudden realization hung like a dark cloud in the room above him.

When Eddie hung up with Bill, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring across the room at the dresser where he and Richie had been making out just yesterday. And yes, that had been just yesterday; he felt like he had to remind himself of that, because it now seemed like a million years ago. So much had happened, and something that had seemed so certain and full of passion now seemed like it was standing on shaky ground. At least for Eddie.

* * *

The bell above the door tinkled softly when Richie entered Bubbles and Gems. His shoes whispered over the plush velvet maroon carpet and he nearly had to shield his eyes from the lights glaring off the rows of glass cases laid out before him. It might have been one of the most upscale places Richie had ever set foot in in Derry, and he suddenly felt like should at least take his shoes off, like he was sullying the place with what Eddie would call "germ magnets".

"Can I help you?" a petite woman with dark hair asked, emerging from a doorway at the back of the shop.

"Yes. Um…I'm looking for an engagement ring," Richie said, his breath catching in his throat and heart turning over in his chest.

God, why was he so nervous? He and Eddie both wanted this so ridiculously much, so it was really just a formality, wasn't it? But maybe because it was Eddie fucking Kaspbrak at all, and Richie had never even imagined he'd be here in his wildest dreams – buying an engagement ring for the love of his life. It made Richie's head spin just thinking about it all.

"For a man or a woman?" the girl asked cheerfully.

_Oh_. Richie's heart then leapt up and lodged itself in his throat, and he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. But almost just as quickly, he decided he was being silly. This poor woman was just trying to sell him the best ring possible, not learn the secrets of his sexuality for personal gain. Old habits died hard, he supposed.

"A…a man," Richie said quietly, but then he cleared his throat. He forced a smile and said, "My…my boyfriend. E-Eddie."

"The men's rings are over here," she replied, gesturing to the cases on the right side of the store. "Was there anything specific you had in mind?"

Riche made his way over to the cases, but then he put his hands up at the woman's question. "Honestly, I have no idea. This is…all kind of spur of the moment." Richie forced out a laugh and said, "We've been in love with each other forever, but kind of only admitted it to each other recently, and…we don't want to wait anymore." Richie felt his face burn a deep shade of red, probably to match the carpet, and he wondered if he should have said any of that. But Eddie seemed to have that effect on him, because a part of Richie had the urge to scream about his love for the man from the rooftops.

The woman casually leaned her elbows against the case in front of her, smiling. "Aw, high school sweethearts?"

"Uh, middle school sweethearts is more like it," Richie admitted.

The woman giggled before she suggested, "Something with his birthstone perhaps? Or yours maybe? Some people like to do that."

Richie blinked, because he had no fucking clue what Eddie's birthstone even was. "Um. He was born in September…? Mine is aquamarine, I think, but I don't think that quite suits him." No, Eddie was much more suited to a deep and passionate color, not something that looked cool and watered down.

"His would be sapphire, then," she said, pointing out a ring to Richie with a deep blue stone.

Richie hummed, considering this, but he didn't think blue quite fit Eddie at all. Goddamn it, but his Eds was a tough fucking fiancé to shop for. Richie shook his head before running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I'm so unprepared. I should have given this some thought before I came rushing in."

"It's okay," the woman said patiently. "You can just look. We have lots. Maybe something will catch your eye. Does he have a favorite color?"

"Um." Richie suddenly felt like the dumbest and worst boyfriend on earth if he couldn't even answer stupid simple questions about the love of his life. But when he really thought about it, there was really only one color that came to mind when he thought about Eddie. "He wears red a lot. He looks good in red."

Richie's mind began to drift away to those little red shorts that Eddie would walk around in decades ago, like they didn't drive Richie absolutely out of his mind. To that red windbreaker in the Jade of the Orient that had made all of those long-buried feelings come slamming back to Richie in full force. To that red sweatshirt that Eddie had worn that day at the Kissing Bridge that had been like a beacon in Richie's blurry vision after that asshole had stolen his glasses.

"Garnet maybe, then? Or how about a ruby?" the girl asked, running her finger along a row of rings with deep red stones.

Richie's mind felt like it was spinning with all of gems reflecting light back at him, with all of the fucking choices that he didn't think would look quite right on Eddie. Maybe Richie should have looked at pictures online before he came into an actual store, because he felt like he was completely out of his league. Why did he ever think he was capable of shopping for a ring of all things?

"Or you could always go with the traditional diamond," she said, still pointing out various rings to Richie when he didn't answer.

Richie assumed that Eddie had probably bought a diamond ring for Myra when they had decided to get married, so that was the last thing he wanted. He shook his head thoughtfully, but then he saw it. It was a silver ring with an orangish-red gem running through the center of the band. When Richie shifted from one foot to the other, the colors would deepen or lighten to varying degrees. It reminded Richie of his mother's favorite pair of earrings when he had been growing up – silver studs with opals in them. They had been a Christmas present from his father one year, but then his mother had lost one some years later, and she'd been distraught for weeks.

"Is…is that an opal?" Richie asked, pointing to the ring in the question.

"It is," said the shopkeeper. She reached underneath the glass counter, withdrawing the ring and handing it to Richie. "Fire opal inlaid in a platinum band. The fire opal symbolizes love, passion, and hope for the future."

Richie smiled as he took the ring. He stuck it on the end of his index finger, using his other hand to turn it over and over again, watching as the light caught the gem, reflecting different shades of glowing red and orange back at him. If there was one word Richie could pick to describe Eddie, it was fiery – a little ball of nerves, and anger, and fucking passion that Richie was only now discovering the degree of which lay underneath the surface. And Jesus Christ, if that ring didn't look like it was on fire just like his little Eds.

Richie nodded, handing the ring back to the saleswoman. "That's the one," he said, sounding a bit out of breath, because a moment ago, he wasn't even sure he'd be able to find anything at all. "I'll take it," he told her. "That's really spur of the moment too, isn't it? But I think that's quickly becoming the theme of our relationship, so why stop now?"

The girl giggled quietly, taking a moment to look intently at the inside of the band. "And what about an inscription?"

"Oh," Richie said, blinking. He had barely even thought about what kind of ring to get at all, let alone what inscription he should get on it. God, he was so fucking unprepared. But almost as soon as Richie took a moment to think about it, he knew exactly what it should be. "R+E," he said, "and a heart on the opposite side?"

"Sure, we can do that," the woman replied, nodding. "It'll be a few extra days, so I hope you weren't planning on proposing tonight."

"I kind of was," Richie admitted around a laugh, "but this is probably for the best. I told my friends that I should stop and think about this, about what I'm going to say and do, because I want this to be special. Believe me, I've waited for this for twenty-seven years and a few days is nothing."

"Well, we can have it ready for you by the end of the week."

"That would be great."

Richie was grinning as he left the shop, the small silver bell tinkling above his head again in farewell. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he made his way down the sidewalk to his car, sending a quick text to Mike.

_Richie (1:01 PM): Engagement ring purchased. You can come out of hiding now. Thank you for your service._

As soon as Richie unlocked the door to his car, a new text from Mike popped up on his phone.

_Mike (1:02 PM): Engagement ring?!_

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: And I've realized there wasn't any actual Reddie content in this chapter, but hopefully, the inclusion of some of the other Losers makes up for it. There will be plenty of Reddie in the next one!_


	16. Chapter 16: The Deadlights

**Brave  
**Chapter 16 – The Deadlights

"Honey, I'm home."

Richie poked his head in the door to his and Eddie's room, grinning when he saw Eddie propped up on a stack of pillows on the bed. He had a book laying open on his lap and he glanced up when Richie entered, giving Richie a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I picked us up a couple of salads," Richie said, momentarily ignoring the expression on Eddie's face. Richie closed the door behind him and held up the plastic bag in his hand. He then set the bag and his keys down on the dresser before turning around to face Eddie. He leaned back against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought a light lunch would be better, so we can save room for our romantic dinner tonight."

Richie smiled again, but Eddie didn't return the gesture. That frown line was visible between Eddie's eyebrows as he diverted his eyes back down to his book.

"What's wrong?" Richie asked, because goddamn. Why were things suddenly so _weird_? It was like when he and Eddie had returned to the inn after meeting those assholes at the Kissing Bridge, only worse. There was a strange tension in the room that was never there between them.

Eddie closed his book with a _snap_, setting it down on the mattress beside his leg. "I'm really trying to be fair here, Richie."

Richie blinked. "Fair about what?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eddie let out a heavy sigh. "I've given you ample opportunity to tell me the truth about how you feel and…if you're changing your mind about us, I wish you'd just tell me. The longer this goes on, the more you're going to hurt me and…I'd rather find out now than have you string me along for god knows how long."

Richie's eyes were wide, because he had absolutely no idea what had prompted this reaction from Eddie. His very first thought was that Eddie had somehow found out that Richie had lied to him about being at Mike's today, but Richie couldn't see how; he knew that none of the other Losers would have said anything, and Eddie had been here all afternoon, hadn't he?

Swallowing hard, Richie asked, "What? What are you _talking_ about?" He shook his head. "Did Myra call you again? Is that where all this is coming from?"

"No," Eddie said firmly. "I haven't talked to Myra since yesterday. This has nothing to do with her and everything to do with you."

_Fuck_. Richie had to absolutely no idea what he had done to upset Eddie, but clearly he had done something.

"All right," Richie said slowly, trying his best to remain calm. He hadn't done anything wrong, other than lie to Eddie about where he had been, but he considered that to be for a very good reason. There was no reason to act guilty, so Richie tried his best to ignore the wave of dread that had settled into his stomach. "Then would you mind telling me what it is I did, because I have no fucking clue." He only flinched slightly at the exasperation that was evident in his voice.

Eddie dropped his eyes back down to the mattress, tracing the edge of the book cover with his fingers. He stared down at it like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. "I came downstairs this morning when you went to get us breakfast and I saw you crying." Lifting his eyes back up to Richie, Eddie gave him a piercing look. "I thought you were so fucking happy, but that's apparently not true, is it?"

Richie scoffed, because he couldn't help it. Was that seriously what had Eddie so upset? Richie shook his head, a small smile playing about his lips. "Eddie, I love you, but sometimes you can be a complete and total moron."

It was Eddie's turn for his eyes to go wide. "What?"

"Haven't you ever heard of happy tears, dipshit?"

"Ha-happy tears?"

"_Yes_," Richie said insistently. He ran his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to try and relax himself, because he seriously thought he had done something to deeply hurt Eddie somehow. "Jesus, if that's what had you so upset, why didn't you just tell me? Did you really sit here the entire time I was gone, stewing over how you thought I was regretting _us_?" Richie's tone was incredulous, like he had had never heard anything more ridiculous.

"I…" Eddie said, but then he shut his mouth. He looked down at his book again before he asked, "They were really happy tears?"

"_Yes_," Richie said again. He pushed himself away from the dresser and approached the bed. He sat down on the edge, but not quite close enough to touch Eddie. "You missed the part where I was telling Ben and Bev about us, and the fact that we both want to get married, and how we're going to have our first official date tonight. I was – I _am_ fucking thrilled, and you can go ask them right now if you don't believe me." Richie held up his hand gesturing towards the door.

When Eddie didn't reply, Richie continued on, "Then when Ben and Bev left to get ready, it just all kind of hit me, you know? Being with you, and being out to our friends, and knowing they still love me anyway-" Richie broke off with a sharp inhale, feeling the familiar sting of tears in his eyes again. He closed his mouth to try and gather himself for a moment, but his eyes were watering, and he only hoped that that would somehow convince Eddie of his feelings. Richie shook his head before he whispered, "I'm fucking _happy_. Happier than I've ever been in my entire _life_. I don't know how many more ways I can tell you that."

Eddie swallowed, staring down at his book again like he was having trouble meeting Richie's eyes. "Even with my fucked up ass?"

"I told you," Richie replied. "You're fucked up. I'm fucked up. We can be fucked up together." Richie reached out, placing his hand underneath Eddie's chin and directing his gaze upwards. When Eddie's eyes finally settled on him again, Richie said, "_I love you_. I've loved you for so long…it's who I am now. It's who I've been for a long time. I don't remember what it's like to _not_ love you. It's as much a part of me as _breathing_. How can make you believe that?"

"Just…promise you won't ever lie to me, Richie." Eddie's eyes were large and pleading. "I can put up with a lot of shit, but I won't tolerate being lied to."

"You don't need to worry about that, because I have absolutely no reason to lie to you. I _promise_," Richie said insistently. "I've _never_ lied to you. You _know_ that. You know, except for when I'm making stupid jokes about fucking your mom and shit. But I would never lie about my feelings for you." Richie reached out for one of Eddie's hands. "I love and respect you too much to treat you like that."

Eddie's frown deepened, but then his bottom lip quivered. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Richie's shoulder. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry. You're right. I am a fucking moron."

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie's shoulders and said, "No, you're not. Your mother gave you trust issues and Myra isn't helping. I know that. But, Eddie? I don't ever want you to be afraid to tell me something. I hate the thought of you sitting here upset at me all afternoon."

_Especially when I was out shopping for your engagement ring_, Richie thought and he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from saying it. Oh, if Eddie only knew.

"I wasn't upset at you," Eddie said, pulling out of Richie's grasp. "Not really. I was mostly feeling sorry for myself. I'm coming to realize that Myra has that effect on me. Sometimes she makes me feel like I'm such a mess and she's the only one who will want me like this."

"She isn't," Richie said, "because _I_ want you."

Eddie smiled at first, but then he stared down at his hands in his lap, a frown beginning to overtake his features once again. "But…Richie? If you ever did decide you didn't want to be with me anymore-"

Richie cut him off with a snort. "Which would be never."

"Just humor me, okay?" Eddie asked. "If you ever did realize that this was a mistake, you would tell me, wouldn't you?"

"First of all," Richie said, "I can't imagine ever feeling that way, because I've wanted this since I was fucking _thirteen_." Richie bent over slightly and leaned his head down to try and get Eddie to look at him. When Eddie finally met his eyes, Richie said, "But I think you're forgetting something."

Eddie swallowed. "What's that?"

"That we were friends first for a long time," Richie replied. "In the unlikely case that I did fall out of love with you, yes, I would tell you. I'll always love and respect you as a friend first and foremost, regardless of whether I'm in love with you or not, and I would never purposely hurt you by leading you on. Friends don't do that to each other."

Eddie was silent for a long time, but then he said, "Rich…"

"What?" Richie asked when he didn't continue.

"You're in love with me?"

"I'm fucking in love with you," Richie repeated, a grin overtaking his features. He had already told Eddie that he loved him more times than he could count, but he'd never said he was _in_ love with him. Not until now. Richie felt like there was a distinct difference, and apparently Eddie did too. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"I'm in love with you too," Eddie said without missing a beat. He reached up and wrapped his hands in the front of Richie's sweatshirt, pulling him forward. Eddie captured his lips in a searing kiss before snaking his hands up to wrap them around Richie's neck.

Richie sighed into Eddie's mouth in contentment, letting his hands trail first to Eddie's hips and then his back. Richie ran his fingers up and down Eddie's back, mapping out where he thought the scar ran underneath his t-shirt and bandages.

When they broke the kiss to take a moment to catch their breath, Richie asked, "So we're okay then, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie said around a smile. "We're okay. And I'll try not to freak out on you again."

"It's all right," Richie reassured him. He released Eddie's back with one hand, reaching up to cup Eddie's cheek instead. "Any time you feel a freak out coming on, just talk to me, okay? Remember what you made me promise you in the hospital? That if we're going to make this work, then we need to be honest with each other. No more secrets."

"No more secrets," Eddie repeated, laying his hand over the one Richie had on his cheek.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah."

Five minutes later, they had their salads sitting open on their laps and Richie had changed the channel to _Chopped_ on the Food Network.

"I can't believe you watch this," Eddie said. "You don't fucking cook, do you?"

Richie shrugged, finishing his bite of salad before he replied, "Fuck no, but it's still entertaining. I mean, you don't commit murder either, and you watch all that true crime shit."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "It's not the same thing, and you never know. I might be getting ideas for when you tell one too many jokes about my dead mother and I've had enough."

"Which will be never," Richie said, leaning over to place a kiss against Eddie's cheek. "Anyway," he added, lifting up his take-out container for a moment, "this is my type of cooking."

"Do you know how expensive take-out gets?" Eddie argued. "I mean, it's fine when we're living out of a hotel, but if you think that shit's going to continue when we get back to LA, you've got another thing coming."

"'When we get back to LA,'" Richie repeated, grinning. "I kind of still can't believe that you're going to just up and move across the country to be with me. We haven't really talked about it, you know?"

Eddie hummed in response, popping an olive in mouth. "I want to though," he said after he swallowed. "I told you, New York is just…so full of memories of my mother and now Myra. It's…stifling and it's kind of almost as bad as Derry in that respect. I feel like…I'll never really be free as long as I'm there."

"What about your job?" Richie asked, concern ebbing at his voice. "You…you like it there, don't you? And your coworkers?"

Eddie nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do. And my boss has told me that there will always be a place for me there when I'm ready to start working again, but…I want to be with _you_, Richie. You need to be in LA to make your dreams come true, and I can find a job there in my field just as easily."

"You're the other half of that dream, you know," Richie told him around a smile. "Yeah, I love being able to make my living by making people laugh, but…something always seemed like it was missing. I hated coming home to an empty apartment all the time." He used his fork to push the lettuce leaves around in his ranch dressing.

"You could have gotten a pet," Eddie suggested.

Richie shrugged, turning down the volume on the television so he could hear Eddie better. "I go on tour occasionally. It just didn't seem practical at the time."

"What's your apartment like?"

"I have a penthouse on the beach," Richie said cheekily, "so yes, there's plenty of room for my tiny little Eds if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I was asking, dumbass," Eddie said, leaning into Richie's shoulder. "It's not a fucking dump, is it? Because we both know I have issues with places that are not up to my standards of clean."

"Jesus," Richie said, rolling his eyes and putting a hand over his heart. "Why do you always act like I don't _know_ you? Believe me, I would never ask you to move in somewhere that would give you a fucking panic attack. My housekeeper, Helen cleans up after my ass. She's also been keeping an eye on the place while I've been away. Just one of the perks of being rich and famous." Richie winked at Eddie.

"So you kind of are a slob, aren't you?" Eddie asked, wrinkling his nose at Richie.

"Not _that_ much," Richie argued, taking a moment to chew on a cherry tomato. "I am prone to leaving my clothes laying around on the floor, and I have a habit of leaving my dirty dishes in the sink for Helen, but I'm not a total slob. I do have basic standards of hygiene, you know. Other than shit laying around and a few occasional dirty dishes, it's clean."

"Mm," Eddie hummed as he considered this. "As long as it's not gross."

"I'm not gross!"

"Says the man who talks about fucking a dead woman every chance he gets."

"Well, you wanna fuck me," Richie said, grinning mischievously. "What's that say about you?"

"I never said I wanted to fuck you."

"Says the man who was sitting on top of me and thrusting into my crotch just yesterday."

"Shut the fuck up." Eddie put another forkful of salad in this mouth, then stared straight ahead at the television. Eddie's face had turned the same shade of red as the cherry tomatoes in his salad. The same shade of red as those lovely shorts of his. The same shade of red as the fire opal stone in the ring that would hopefully be around his finger by the end of the week.

This thought made Richie smile, and he leaned his back against the headboard, staring at Eddie happily. "I love you," he said warmly. Richie pressed his toe into the side of Eddie's foot, rubbing their socks together.

The very corner of Eddie's lips twitched up into a smile, even as he tried desperately to keep the frown on his face. "Yeah, I love you too, you little shit, but stop that," Eddie muttered, gently kicking Richie's foot out of the way. "That tickles."

"My little Eds is ticklish," Richie said playfully, poking his toe into Eddie's foot again. "I forgot about that."

"Oh my god, stop it," Eddie muttered, pulling his foot out of Richie's reach. "I'm trying to eat here. Don't make me regret my decision to move in with you. It's going to be like living with a big giant child."

"Speaking of which," Richie said, "I was thinking about some things. I have two bedrooms, and I mainly use the spare as an office, but it's big enough. We could get you a treadmill, and weights, and all your workout equipment in there too."

Eddie stopped midchew, and it was his turn to stare at Richie. When Eddie finished his bite he said, "This is really happening. You…you're thinking about where I can put all my stuff."

"Fuck yeah, I'm thinking about it," Richie said. He laid a hand across Eddie's thigh, squeezing it gently. "I've kind of been doing nothing but thinking about it since we got back to Derry and I remembered that I was still in love with you. I…kept thinking about dumb stuff too, like how all your toiletries would look lined up on my bathroom counter. And how your big ass suitcase would look in my closet."

"Next to your tiny little duffle bag," Eddie said. "You seriously go on tour and just throw all your shit in there?"

"Yes, because I can carry it on the plane!" Richie argued. "You wouldn't believe the shit I went through the one time I decided to check my luggage and the airline lost my bag. The plane was late on top of that, and I was running around Chicago like a chicken with my head cut off, trying to find a blazer that matched my fucking pants before I had to go on. Never again."

"So you throw your blazers in a big lump in your duffle bag," Eddie said, making a face. "That's a great solution."

"Better than getting my shit lost again," Richie muttered.

"You know the chances of that are relatively slim, don't you?" Eddie asked. "Fewer than six bags per one thousand passengers were actually lost last year."

"Why the _fuck_ do you know that?" Richie looked at Eddie like he had suddenly turned into Pennywise. "You're so fucking weird."

Eddie hummed in response, and then he reached out a moment later to wrap his fingers in the front of Richie's sweatshirt. "That's one of the things you love about me," Eddie said before kissing Richie fiercely.

"Never said I didn't," Richie mumbled against Eddie's lips. "But you're still weird." Richie didn't say anything else as he dove back in.

* * *

The sun was on fire and just beginning to dip down behind the horizon when a knock came at Richie and Eddie's door. Richie immediately jumped up off the bed and grabbed the doorknob. He turned back to Eddie and said, "I think our dinner's ready." He grinned before he opened the door.

Beverly poked her head around the doorway and said, "I think there's something out on the balcony for you two."

Richie leaned in to kiss her cheek and said, "Thanks, Bev. Thank Ben for me too."

"Have fun," she said before making herself scarce.

"What did you do?" Eddie asked, staring up at Richie from his place on the bed.

"You'll see." A huge grin overtook Richie's face as he held out his hand for Eddie's.

Eddie took it, letting Richie help him up off the bed and following him out into the hallway. Richie led him towards the back of the building and out the emergency exit that he had used once before. Richie was hit with the most ridiculous sense of déjà vu as he remembered using this very exit to try and run away from this town once and for all. Richie had seriously almost left Eddie behind forever, and he never would have known what they could have had.

Richie stopped and turned around so that he was facing Eddie. Eddie stopped just short of colliding with him, grinning up at him.

"Remember when I almost left Derry right before we fought It for the final time?" Richie asked.

"Yeah," Eddie said quietly, resting his hands on Richie's chest. "And Mike might have died. _I_ might have died. Actually, we all would have died."

"I didn't even think about that," Richie said breathlessly. "I was just thinking about the fact that…we wouldn't be here. Together."

Eddie tucked his head underneath Richie's chin, squeezing his middle tightly. "I'm glad you stayed."

"Me too," Richie mumbled into Eddie's hair before pulling away from him again. He continued to hold Eddie's hand as they made their way around the building and finally to the table that was positioned just beside the staircase that led down to the parking lot. The very staircase that Richie had rushed down on his way to his car that day, barely even noticing the deep green, round table with an umbrella. The very table that he and Eddie were about to have dinner at.

Jesus, if it had even so much as occurred to Richie that he'd be having a candlelight dinner with Eddie, Richie probably would have dropped dead.

True to their word, Ben and Bev had gone all out. Two candles burned brightly in the growing darkness, illuminating the two plates of linguini with alfredo sauce, two glasses of water, and two empty champagne flutes. At the center of the table stood a bottle of sparkling white grape juice, because it wouldn't be safe for Eddie to have alcohol with his current pain meds. When they got closer to the table, Richie saw that one of the plates had a small sign propped up next to it which read '_gluten-free option_'. Ben and Bev really had thought of _everything_.

"This one would be yours," Richie said, pulling out the chair for Eddie to take his seat.

"Rich," Eddie said, his voice sounding slightly awed as he glanced around at the table. "When did you do all this? Is this really what you were doing when you said you were at Mike's?"

"No, and unfortunately, I can't take credit for this," Richie said as he took his own seat on the opposite side of the table. "This was all Ben and Bev's doing. Once I mentioned to them that I wanted to have a nice romantic dinner with you…they took it out of my hands." Richie motioned to the table in front of them.

"I guess I won't hold it against you," Eddie giggled, as he laid his napkin over his lap.

Richie unscrewed the cap off the bottle of sparkling grape juice before he filled both his and Eddie's champagne glasses. Richie cleared his throat before he raised his glass and said, "To us? And what will be the first of a shit ton of date nights together, because we have a lot of time to make up for."

"Fuck yeah, we do," Eddie said, lifting his own glass and letting it clink against Richie's before he took a sip.

They both took a few moments to begin eating their noodles before Richie said, "So, um, you have your doctor's appointment Friday to hopefully get your stitches out. If it all goes okay and the doctor says you're okay to travel…when do you want to get the hell out of this place?"

"The next day?" Eddie asked, pausing in his effort to twirl noodles onto his fork. "I don't fucking know about you, but I'm about ready to leave this shithole behind once and for all."

"Good. Me too," Richie agreed. "I think I was kind of afraid that you were getting all sentimental and getting attached to this place, or some shit."

"Fuck no," Eddie said, after his finished chewing his bite of linguine. A moment later, he looked down at his plate, frowning in thought. When he brought his eyes back up to Richie's, he said, "If you want to go straight back to LA, I won't mind, but I need to go to New York first. Pick up a few things and…stop by the courthouse so I can file those wretched divorce papers."

"No, I'm coming with you," Richie said, setting down his fork on the edge of his plate and taking a drink of water. "Can't let you go back to New York and possibly have to face Myra all by yourself. I think you're going to need some backup."

Eddie smiled, biting at his bottom lip. "I was hoping you'd say that." Eddie picked his napkin up from his lap, using it to wipe his mouth off. "God only knows what Myra has in store for me once I turn up at home, only to grab a few things and leave again. She might be ready to knock me out and tie me to the fucking bed. You know, like in what one novel by what's-his-face."

"Nah," Richie said, scooping up some more pasta on his fork. "Annie Wilkes was an obsessed fan. Not a deranged ex-wife."

"You heard Myra, though," Eddie mumbled, staring back down at his plate again. "She's not going to let me go without a fight. I'm…kind of scared to death about what she thinks might be acceptable in this situation." Eddie snorted, using his fork to stab at some of his noodles. "Like she's going to make me realize I've made some terrible mistake by acting crazy, because that'll _definitely_ make me want to go back to her."

Richie laid his fork back down on his plate before reaching out for Eddie's hand which was sitting on top of the table. "Hey," Richie said, "I'm going to help you, okay? If Myra has anything crazy planned, she's going to have to go through Trashmouth first."

The very corner of Eddie's mouth twitched up into a smile, but then his expression grew concerned. "We can't let her know what's really going on between us though," Eddie hissed.

"God, you really think I'm a moron, don't you?" Richie asked, rolling his eyes.

"No, but Jesus," Eddie said, taking a sip of water. "Can you imagine the fallout from that? Not only would she have a field day contesting this divorce before suing me for all I'm worth, but she'd be just butthurt enough to take to social media."

"Do you think she'd recognize me though?" Richie asked after another bite of pasta. "Do you think she ever got a good enough look at me when you were watching me on YouTube?"

"I don't know," Eddie replied, shaking his head. "All she ever said about you was to call you 'that crass comedian'. I don't know if she ever realized how hot you are or not." Eddie stared at Richie demurely from under his eyelashes.

Richie felt like his brain short-circuited. He stared at Eddie openmouthed for a moment, because Jesus Christ. He was actually having a romantic candlelight dinner with Eddie, who had just told him how hot he was and was staring at him like _that_. A part of Richie wondered if he had really died and gone to heaven when they had battled Pennywise, because things like this didn't happen to him. _Ever_.

Richie blinked several times before it felt like his brain had finally gotten back online. "Eh," Richie said, wiping at his mouth with his napkin, "I don't think I'm her type. I think she much prefers small bundles of nerves with six-packs, and I can't say I blame her."

Eddie's cheeks grew a deep shade of red before his fucking adorable little dimples bloomed there, and god, Richie didn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing them.

"Not like she would even know I have a six-pack," Eddie said, looking back down at his plate.

"She's your wife," Richie said, staring at Eddie. "I'm sure she knows that you have a six-pack."

"No," Eddie muttered, poking at his linguine with his fork again, "she really wouldn't. We haven't – you know – for ages. Not since I started working out at any rate. That all came after my mother died and I didn't have her breathing down my neck about giving myself an asthma attack by _running_." Eddie rolled his eyes. "The only times Myra and I were ever intimate was before I even came _close_ to having a six-pack. She doesn't really like the fact that I work out either. Because I might break or pull something. She's ridiculous."

Richie stared at Eddie dumbfounded. It made Richie feel slightly ill to think about Eddie being even remotely intimate with anyone else besides himself, let alone Myra. But at the same time, there was a very weird and empty feeling that settled into Richie's chest at those words. Because Myra was his _wife_, and truth be told, Richie really just wanted Eddie to be happy, whether it was with him or not. A husband and wife should be able to find pleasure in each other, and while Richie knew their relationship wasn't good, he never imagined that it would be so…empty. So empty and fucking _barren_.

Goddamn that woman.

"I have to hand it to you, Eds," Richie said, picking up some more pasta with his fork, "she's a piece of work. She doesn't want you working out, because you might _hurt_ yourself. Meanwhile, she's missing the entire fucking point of working out at all – to make yourself _stronger_ and _healthier_." Richie scoffed. "Probably because she's so fucking insecure in the first place. God forbid you do anything to better _yourself_."

Despite the topic of conversation, Eddie was smiling at Richie. "I love you, Rich," he said quietly, fingering the bottom of his champagne flute absentmindedly. He shook his head in disbelief and said, "You know, all my life I hoped to be able to find someone who would just…support me. And it never occurred to me that you were right in front of me the entire time."

"I love you," Richie said, seeking out Eddie's hand on the table again and rubbing his fingers over it. "I always have and I always will. You…you realize that now, don't you?"

"I'm beginning to, yeah," Eddie replied, threading his fingers through Richie's.

Once their plates were cleaned, Richie noticed a comfortable-looking lounge chair in the corner of the balcony. He took Eddie's hand again, carefully pulling him up from his seat and leading him over to the lounge. Richie sank down into it, relaxing all the way back into the soft green cushions. He held out his arms a moment later, motioning for Eddie to join him.

The smallest smile appeared across Eddie's lips before he sat down in between Richie's legs. Eddie slid backwards until his back was against Richie's chest, then he leaned heavily into him, resting his head back on Richie's shoulder.

Richie immediately wrapped his arms around Eddie, hugging him close. "I've wanted to lay down and hold you like this for a long time, but it's a bit tricky in bed. Not quite enough support for your stitches. Are you comfortable?"

"Mmm," Eddie hummed in response, laying his arms over top Richie's. "A lot more than comfortable. I…being in your arms makes me feel safe."

"You are," Richie whispered into his hair, kissing the back of his head. "I would never do anything to hurt you, Eds. Please know that."

"I do," Eddie said around a soft sigh, relaxing even more into Richie's arms.

Just like when they had been in the bathroom and Richie had been changing Eddie's bandages the first time, Richie felt the tension slowly seeping from Eddie's body. It had taken ahold of Eddie once again when he had been on the phone with Myra, but now he was relaxing even more with each passing second. It was like Richie was channeling away all of the tension from Eddie's body, and Richie wouldn't have it any other way. A part of Richie wanted to keep him like this forever, fucking protect Eddie from all the stressors of the world, even though he knew that that was impossible. And he knew Eddie didn't want to be coddled anyway, but just being able to hold Eddie like this sometimes would have to be enough.

"Rich?" Eddie said a while later. "Can I ask you something?"

Richie had almost dozed off, but not quite. He let out a soft hum in response, but then said, "You know you can. Anything." He entwined the fingers of one hand around Eddie's, letting their hands play against each other.

Eddie was silent for a very long time, and Richie almost thought he had decided against his question. A few moments later, however, he asked, "What did It show you in the Deadlights?"

"What?" Richie asked reflexively, even though he had heard the question loud and clear. No one had ever asked him about his time in the Deadlights, and it now seemed so long ago, he doubted anyone ever would. So many things had happened since then – Eddie nearly dying and he and Richie admitting their feelings for each other – it seemed best to leave certain things buried in the past.

"What did It show you in the Deadlights?" Eddie asked again, softer this time. "Is…is it stupid that I never thought to ask you before? After what Bev talked about…I kind of feel bad about that."

"Don't," Richie said, briefly tightening his arms around Eddie. Richie tried to laugh, but the sound came out flat and humorless. "It's not exactly something I hope people will bring up, you know?"

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," Eddie said hurriedly. "It just…kind of occurred to me just today that that was probably a pretty traumatic thing to go through, and I wondered if you wanted to talk about it. But you know you don't have to. If you'd rather forget that the entire thing ever happened, that's okay too."

"No," Richie replied. "It's okay." Richie paused, swallowing hard. "It…it's kind of impossible to forget that it ever happened. I've kind of tried to, but it's the sort of thing that sticks in your mind. Maybe…maybe talking about will help, and if there's anyone I feel comfortable talking about it with, it's you." Richie smiled into Eddie's hair, even though Eddie couldn't see it. "I sort of did talk to you about it already, although I wasn't entirely honest about it at the time. But no secrets, right?"

"No secrets."

"I saw you."

"Me?"

"You." Richie's mouth felt dry all of a sudden, so he opened and closed it several times, attempting to get some moisture back in it. "Do you remember that nightmare I had that night you came home from the hospital?"

"Of course." Eddie's hand gripped Richie's tightly in his.

"It…wasn't exactly just a nightmare," Richie said slowly. "_That_ was what I saw in the Deadlights. And it shows up in my dreams sometimes."

Eddie expelled a sharp breath, pulling gently out of Richie's arms. He still stayed seated between Richie's legs, but he turned around in his spot in order to face Richie. Eddie placed a hand over Richie's chest, just above his heart, his fingers wrapping into the cotton of his sweatshirt.

"So all that stuff about leaving me for dead down in the sewers," Eddie said, "that was really what the Deadlights showed you?"

"That was what it showed me," Richie repeated, nodding slowly. "Because It knew that that was the worst-case scenario for me. It wasn't showing me everyone dying like it did for Bev, even though that would have been horrific all on its own. But It knew that losing you right after I got you back would fucking destroy me."

"Rich…" Eddie said, like he wanted to say something, but then he stopped. In the end, Richie was grateful for it, because now that he had started speaking, he just wanted to get it all out.

"And it didn't end there," Richie told him, and he was suddenly aware of how small and far away his voice sounded. "We left you down there, and then we went to the quarry to wash off, and…I fucking cried my eyes out. Ben and Bev were fucking thrilled, because they finally realized they had been madly in love with each other…just as long as we had been." Richie blinked, like he had just realized just how bitter he sounded. "I know they were upset about losing you too, but…at least they had each other. And I was alone. Without you. Kicking myself, because I never had the fucking courage to tell you how I felt. You died, never knowing how I felt."

"I didn't die, Rich," Eddie said, reaching up his other hand to cup Richie's cheek. "I'm right here."

"I know," Richie said. He brought his hand up against Eddie's, pressing it into his cheek and he closed his eyes against the sensation. The sensation of Eddie's warm and very alive hand pressed against his skin. The feeling of Eddie comforting him, and the expression in his very large brown eyes that Richie didn't quite think he'd ever be on the receiving end of – one that Richie now knew was full of nothing but love. Richie's other hand found Eddie's that was laying across his chest and he gripped it firmly in his before he said, "It even showed me going to the Kissing Bridge…by myself. I carved our initials into the wood alone."

"That's why you wanted us to go back there and do it together," Eddie said. He leaned forward into Richie, pressing their foreheads together. "Jesus, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Richie asked, genuinely shocked.

"For being the biggest fucking idiot of all time," Eddie said, pulling back to look down at Richie. "If that's what you consider to be the worst thing that could have happened to you in all of this…your feelings are a lot stronger than I've given you credit for, aren't they?"

Richie found himself smiling despite the seriousness of the conversation. He let go of Eddie's hands to wrap his arms around Eddie's waist instead. "You have no idea. You are everything to me. You are all I've ever wanted." Richie shook his head, not breaking eye contact with Eddie. "Nothing else. Just you." Richie laughed softly before he added, "And for some bizarre reason that I can't wrap my head around, you've felt the same way all this time. And I have no fucking clue what I did to deserve this."

"You were you," Eddie said, before he closed the last of the distance between them. He captured Richie's lips in a kiss and whispered, "And you made me feel like I was enough."

"Do I, though?" Richie asked, turning his head away when Eddie dipped back in for another kiss.

"Always," Eddie replied insistently. "I'm just fucked up for reasons that have nothing to do with you. Can you just be patient while I sort shit out?"

"Anything for you," Richie told him. "But since we're on the subject, I need to apologize to you too."

Eddie frowned deeply. "What on earth for?"

"For not doing something when I came out of the Deadlights," Richie said, his eyes going down to where Eddie had his hands were over top of Richie's chest. "I saw what was going to happen to you. All of it. I saw you getting impaled and your blood splattering all over me. I saw It lifting you up and, throwing you down into the cave, and your blood pouring down your chin. I knew it was coming, and I fucking laid there!"

Eddie shook his head furiously. "Rich, you just came out of the Deadlights! I wouldn't exactly expect you to suddenly make sense out of everything you had just seen and spring into action. Okay? Nothing that happened to me is your fault! Hell, if not for you, I would still be down there!"

"But I could have done something to prevent this," Richie said. He let go of Eddie's waist with one hand, bringing it around to settle his fingers against the front of Eddie's t-shirt, feeling the bandages underneath.

"Is that…" Eddie began, but then he bit his bottom lip, his frown returning. "Is that why you've wanted to help me with my bandages so badly? Is that…why you want to kiss it and make it better? Because you feel guilty for it?"

"I…I don't know," Richie admitted, shrugging uncomfortably. He suddenly wondered if he should have said anything at all, because it felt like they were getting into a tricky area that they may not be able to find their way back from. Would Eddie be upset or angry at him if he had known part of Richie's actions had been done out of guilt? Richie considered trying to backpedal his way out of this conversation, but no. They'd already decided that they needed to be honest with each other, so that was what Richie would do.

"It's okay if it is," Eddie said, seeming to read Richie's thoughts. "I won't be upset at you for it."

"Maybe that was part of it, sure," Richie replied honestly. "But it wasn't all of it. I still would have wanted to do those things regardless of how it happened, because what I told you was true, you know. That's the sort of thing couples do for each other – help when the other one has been hurt or injured."

"But I don't ever want you to blame yourself for what happened," Eddie said, shaking his head again. "I told you when you changed my bandages the first time that I still would have gone after Pennywise, because saving your life was more important than anything that could have happened to me." Eddie hung his head, looking down at his chest and exhaling a soft breath. "Do I wish I didn't have a big fucking hole in my chest? Yeah, and I probably always will, but was it worth your life? Yes. A thousand times yes."

Richie tightened the arm he had around Eddie's waist. "I want you to know that nothing I told you about it was a lie." It was Richie's turn to shake his head. "I still don't think it's gruesome, and I will never stop being thankful that you even thought my life was worth saving."

"I know. I know you wouldn't lie to me about that, but oh my god, Richie, your life was worth all of this and more," Eddie gasped out. He leaned forward gingerly, pressing his chest against Richie's and tucking his head under his chin. "I told you, I fucking love you so much, and I don't know what I'd do right now without you. I could never regret saving your life. Not if Pennywise impaled me a fucking dozen times."

A moment of silence passed between them, during which something occurred to Richie. "I never thanked you for that, did I – saving my life?"

"You don't need to do that," Eddie said, lifting his head to stare at Richie. "I would have done it regardless. No thanks needed. Because that's what you do when you love someone. But while we're at it, thank you for not leaving me down in the sewers."

"Like you said, no thanks needed," Richie said, wrapping Eddie's hands up in his. He brought them up to his chest before he said, "I knew exactly what would happen if I left you down there, and…I couldn't face that. Going through the rest of life without you, just after I'd realized how much I felt for you. I would have rather been buried alive along with you than risk that empty life alone."

"You won't have to know what that's like," Eddie said, shaking his head firmly.

He let go of Richie's hands, running them up to Richie's chest and then to cup the sides of his neck. Eddie leaned forward to kiss him deeply, while Richie wound his arms around Eddie's waist and pressed his tongue into Eddie's mouth.

They were both too caught up in each other to see the shooting star that streaked across the sky just then.

_To be continued…_


	17. Chapter 17: Stitches

_Author's note: I'm so sorry again for the wait on this chapter. I took a bit of a break from this story and worked on something else for a while, and it was kind of hard getting back into this one. But here it is finally, and I hope you're still all doing well!_

_Warnings for an involved medical scene in this chapter, including the removal and aftercare of stitches. Please tread carefully!_

**Brave  
**Chapter 17 – Stitches

_"__Jesus Christ, Richie!"_

_"__Yeah, move the fuck over," thirteen-year-old Richie muttered, trying his best to situate his legs on either side of Eddie in what he hoped was a casual way._

_"__It's a hammock!" Eddie yelled, using one of his feet to kick at Richie's leg. "There's nowhere to move, dickwad!"_

_"__Your ten minutes are up!" Richie said, holding his comic book up in front of his face to let Eddie know the conversation was over. Eddie, however, could always be counted on._

_"__Fuck you!" Eddie muttered, this time kicking Richie's comic book out of his hand. It flew through the air to land on the dusty floor of the clubhouse._

_"__Hey!" Richie cried, frowning deeply and trying fruitlessly to reach for his comic book._

_Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "You never care about the ten-minute rule when it's _your_ turn, so you're not allowed to use it now!"_

_Eddie's legs had settled over top of Richie's, his socked feet pressed into Richie's sides. Eddie had those stupid little red shorts of his on, and the summer-warmed skin of his calves was laying over top of Richie's thighs. Richie stretched out his right leg a little farther until his own socked foot was settled awkwardly underneath Eddie's back; it wasn't the most comfortable position in the world, but somehow, it was nice._

_Uncrossing his arms, Eddie hesitated for just a split second before he laid his left hand over Richie's right knee. Tingles of sweat broke out over Richie's skin where they were touching, but he made absolutely no effort to move. Eddie stretched out, curling up his right arm behind his head. He settled back against the hammock, closing his eyes. A moment later, Richie thought he saw a demure smile bloom over Eddie's lips, and Richie felt his mouth go dry._

_His comic book was suddenly the furthest thing from Richie's mind._

* * *

It was Friday morning and Richie awoke with a smile on his face, the ghost of his memory of fighting Eddie for the hammock still floating around in his brain. He curled in around Eddie's side, nuzzling Eddie's neck. "Morning," Richie mumbled, then he had to bite his lip to keep from saying _soon-to-be fiancé_.

"Mm, morning," Eddie said around a yawn. He stretched underneath the arm Richie had laying across his stomach. Then he turned his head and captured Richie's lips in a kiss.

"Are you ready to get your stitches out today?" Richie asked, rubbing his hand across Eddie's t-shirt, over his stomach and up towards his chest, covering the span of his scar.

"Fuck yeah," Eddie replied. "Let's get this shitshow on the road so we can get the hell out of this town once and for all."

"Well, I was thinking," Richie said, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over the center of Eddie's chest.

"That's dangerous."

"Fuck off," Richie said warmly, pressing a kiss into Eddie's neck. "But as long as your appointment goes okay and the doctor says you're fine to travel, we're leaving for New York tomorrow, right?"

"Mhm," Eddie hummed in response. "I'm more than ready to get my divorce filed and get to LA so we can start our life together."

A warm feeling exploded in Richie's chest and seemed to radiate out towards all his limbs. Richie moved his arm from Eddie's chest to reach for his hip instead. He pulled Eddie closer and repeated, "'Our life together.' That sounds nice."

Eddie sighed contentedly, burying his nose into Richie's dark curls. "So what were you thinking about?" Eddie asked when Richie didn't say anything more.

"Oh," Richie said, forcing his mind back to the topic at hand. "Well, considering it's our last night in Derry, I thought we should do something special tonight."

Eddie pulled away slightly, raising a questioning eyebrow at Richie. "Don't tell me _you're_ getting all sentimental about this town now," Eddie said.

"No," Richie replied. "Not at all. It's just…where we met, and fell in love, and where we finally admitted our feelings for each other. That…kind of counts for something, doesn't it?"

This caused Eddie to smile. "Yeah, I suppose it does."

"And come on," Richie said, "wasn't our dinner the other night one of the best fucking times we've ever had here?"

"Considering a lot of our time here has been spent scared shitless and either running from or trying to kill a fucking demon," Eddie pointed out, "I don't know if that counts for a whole hell of a lot."

"So you don't want to have another romantic night with me before we leave?" Richie asked, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

"I didn't say that," Eddie disagreed. He suddenly grinned, then bit at his lower lip to try and stifle it a bit. "Actually, if you're promising me the same sort of night, then…yes, I'd love to. Because…it was one of the best nights I've had in a long time."

"Me too."

"I…never really had this before," Eddie said, sadness edging into his voice a bit. "Things with Myra happened so quickly and…" He broke off with a sigh. "I mean, this is happening quickly too, but…it's different. And it's okay."

"God, I hope so." Richie's thoughts went to the engagement ring he had ordered that he was supposed to pick up today, then he tried to swallow down the surge of panic at the suggestion that they were doing things too quickly.

"It is," Eddie said reassuringly, a smile evident in his voice. "You're not treating this as…a foregone conclusion, you know? Once Myra and I decided to get married, it was like all the romance suddenly died." Eddie paused for a moment, frowning deeply. "If it was ever really there in the first place. I'm not entirely sure. And perhaps that should have been my first clue that we were headed for disaster. But I've already agreed to move in with you and you're still…you're fucking _courting_ me." Eddie laughed, an incredulous sound. "You're courting _me_. Of all the fucking people in the world."

"I love you," Richie said firmly, "and _nothing_ about this is a foregone conclusion. I still have the urge to pinch myself when I wake up and find you sleeping next to me. I spent so long wanting this, but convincing myself at the same time that it would never happen. And here we are." Richie let out a breath of disbelief. "I will never stop feeling like the luckiest man on the face of the earth that _you_ want _me_ of all the fucking people in the world. So yeah, I'm going to court you. I'm going to court the fucking shit out of you, and you're going to get sick of it. And I'm still going to be courting you when we're eighty fucking years old."

Eddie snickered. "Eighty-year-old Richie Tozier waddling into the store with his walker to buy me presents and shit. I'd love to see that."

"Nah, I'm going to have one of those motorized scooters. But you will see that. If you let me."

Eddie sought out the hand that Richie had settled on his hip, wrapping his fingers around it. He brought Richie's hand up to his mouth, kissing his palm. "Always." He gripped Richie's hand in his then, rubbing his thumb along the back of it.

Richie pushed himself up on his elbow, smiling down at Eddie. "I'll love you forever, Eds. I know you have your doubts about that, but _this_ is what I want. _You_ are what I want. And I'll never stop reminding you of that fact if you need me to."

A smile spread across Eddie's features before he let go of Richie's hand. He then trailed his hand up Richie's arm, gripping his bicep. "I know," Eddie told him. "I'm starting to realize that. You're so patient with me and my fucked up ass, and…you don't know how much that means to me, Rich."

"Hey, I've waited for this for twenty-seven years," Richie said, grinning. "I'm an expert in patience by now."

Eddie ran his hand up over Richie's shoulder to the back of his neck. He pulled Richie down towards him and whispered, "I love you." He kissed Richie deeply, tangling his fingers in the curls at the back of Richie's neck.

"I love you," Richie whispered back against Eddie's lips.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Eddie asked, "So what did you have in mind for tonight?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Richie said, slowly disentangling himself from Eddie. "Want some breakfast?"

"Not even a hint?"

Richie shook his head as put on his glasses and reached for his sweatpants and shoes. "Nope."

"Are we having dinner again?"

"You'll see."

"_Rich_…"

"What?" Richie asked in the most innocent voice he could muster as he reached for their room key on the dresser.

Eddie sighed, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. "You know what? Nothing. Just…shut the fuck up and go get my breakfast."

Richie grinned, but that quickly faded when he turned around and saw Eddie struggling to get up off the bed. Richie was next to him in a second, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulders and supporting him as he got up.

"Coming down with me today?" Richie asked, staring down at Eddie. He tried to hide the small burst of panic that went through him, because he had certain things to discuss with Ben and Beverly that he obviously didn't want Eddie to be privy to.

"No, I have to take a piss," Eddie said. He pushed himself up on his tiptoes and gave Richie a quick kiss before turning on his heel and heading for the bathroom.

Richie bit at his lower lip for a second before he turned back to the dresser. He picked up his wallet from where he had left it the night before and withdrew a small slip of paper from it. He tucked this paper into the pocket on the front of his shirt before heading for the door.

"I'll be back," he called to Eddie before heading out into the hall.

Richie made his way down the steps and into the lounge of the Townhouse where Ben and Beverly were seated at the bar, having their customary breakfast.

"Just the people I wanted to see," Richie said, taking his usual seat next to Ben.

"Uh-oh," Ben mumbled around a sip of coffee. "I think he wants us to plan another romantic date night for him."

"You guys don't mind, do you?" Richie asked tentatively. "It's kind of hard for me to surprise Eddie without making up stupid lies about what I'm doing, and I don't like doing that. It kind of makes me feel guilty, even though there's really nothing to feel guilty about." Richie frowned deeply before he said, "And Eddie made me promise that I wouldn't lie to him about anything, so it makes me feel like shit when I do, even if it's for a good cause."

"Of course we'll help you," Beverly said, reaching across the bar to place a comforting hand on Richie's arm. "We had fun getting everything together, and apparently, you guys did too." She giggled, popping a piece of muffin in her mouth.

"Wait!" Richie cried while in the process of pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Were you watching us?!"

"Only for a minute," Beverly said, staring down at her own cup of coffee. "I wanted to know if our nice, romantic dinner worked, and it did."

"I told her to give you guys some privacy," Ben said.

"I did!" Beverly cried.

"Yeah, it worked," Richie said, rubbing at the back of neck as a warmth spread through his face. "But…it was really nice. We…talked about a lot of things, and…I think it made him realize that this isn't something I'm going to change my mind about. I know it's still going to be a while before he can work through all the distrust his mother instilled in him, but he doesn't seem as stressed out about as he did."

"So is tonight the big night?" Beverly asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, it is," Richie said, throwing a glance back over his shoulder at the stairs to make sure Eddie wasn't sneaking up on him again. "I'm taking Eddie to get his stitches out today, so if you guys could get the ring, it would be a huge help."

"Consider it done," Ben told him.

"Thank you so much." Richie reached into the pocket of his shirt, taking out the small slip of paper from his wallet. He unfolded it and laid it out on the counter, revealing it to be his receipt from Bubbles and Gems. "It's already paid for, so you just need to pick it up."

"God, it better be," Ben said as he picked up the receipt and put it in his own pocket. "I don't remember ever agreeing to pay for your fucking engagement ring."

Beverly asked, "Have you decided how and where you're going to do it?"

"Yeah, I have," Richie said. "Um, I wanted to do it at the Kissing Bridge at first, but the more and more I think about it, I've decided against it. It doesn't seem like such a great idea after what happened the last time we were there. I know those bastards are in jail now, but I don't want to risk anything like that happening again to spoil this for Eddie. But I've come up with a much better idea." Richie grinned, but then his expression grew a bit sheepish. "It's…just going to take some work, and I do need your help for that too."

No one said anything for a moment, which gave Richie enough time to start freaking out. "I know I'm going to owe you guys big time," he said in a rush. "I _already_ owe you guys big time for the dinner the other night and I'm asking for more again-"

"Richie, it's fine," Ben said warmly, smiling. "We'd do anything for you and Eddie. You have to know that by now. Just don't ask us to kill another fucking demon clown again, because that's where we draw that line."

Richie huffed out a breath of laughter, taking a sip of his steaming coffee to try and break the tension he felt. "Yeah, I suppose I know that," he said, setting his coffee cup down on the bar. "I just feel like I'm asking for too much-"

"You're not," Beverly interrupted him gently. "Just let us know what you want us to do."

"Um," Richie said, biting at his bottom lip. He threw one last glance over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone. "Okay, listen. This is what I want to do."

Richie leaned over, speaking to Ben and Beverly in hushed tones just in the unlikely case that Eddie would wander down to breakfast again that morning. Because the little shit would have a fucking coronary if he knew that the three of them were having hushed conversations without him.

* * *

Two hours later, Richie and Eddie were sitting in the waiting room in the doctor's office, and Eddie was about to jump out of his own skin. He kept tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair and shaking his foot around uncontrollably. He hands instinctively kept going to his pockets, and Richie knew he was searching for his inhaler, which was sitting on top of their dresser at the inn; Eddie had stopped carrying it with him altogether a few days ago.

"Breathe, man," Richie said, placing a calming hand against the small of Eddie's back. Richie quickly glanced around the waiting room, checking to make sure that no one was watching his interaction with Eddie. No one was sparing them a second glance, and so what if they were? There was nothing wrong with simply offering his best friend a comforting hand.

"I'm just…fuck," Eddie grumbled, rubbing his hands nervously on the thighs of his jeans next. "What if he tells me it's all infected, and he can't take the stitches out, and we have to stay in this godforsaken town for who knows how long?"

"It'll be fine," Richie said, trying to hide his smile. "We just changed your bandages this morning and your scar looked good. It's not infected."

"But what if he still can't take the stitches out for whatever reason and we're going to have to stay here?" Eddie asked, glancing tentatively at Richie out of the corner of his eye.

"Then we'll stay here," Richie said. "Tell me, have you been having such a horrible time since you got out of the hospital?"

"_No_," Eddie replied. "You know I haven't. It's…it's been nice. You know I like being all domestic with you and shit. But…how much longer can _you_ stay here?" Eddie faced Richie more fully, his eyes wide with worry. "Your manager's going to kill you if-"

"You let me worry about Jason," Richie cut him off gently. "He knows that I'm here helping take care of you after you nearly _died_. Believe me, you're way more important to me than my career."

"Rich…" Eddie began, but he was cut off again.

"Edward Kaspbrak?" a nurse called, sticking her head out from a door at the far end of the room.

Richie and Eddie were led back through a maze of hallways and into a small exam room. When they were left alone, Eddie sat up on the exam table, and Richie helped him pull his t-shirt off over his head. Eddie folded it neatly and placed it on the table next to him, resuming his habit of rubbing his hands up and down the thighs of his jeans.

Richie sat down in one of the chairs in the corner, trying to give Eddie the most reassuring smile possible.

A few moments later, after Eddie had already paced the room a couple times, the doctor finally joined them. He was an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair, and he was holding up a clipboard in front of him.

"Mr. Kaspbrak?" the doctor asked.

"Eddie," Eddie said. "Call me Eddie. Mr. Kaspbrak was my dad."

"He also answers to Eds or Eddie Spaghetti," Richie supplied from the corner.

This earned Richie a scathing glare from Eddie. Eddie looked like he was almost hurting himself with the effort to not curse Richie out in front of the doctor, but he finally settled on, "Shut up." Then he turned his gaze to the doctor and said, "Please don't call me that."

"Eddie," the doctor said around a small chuckle. "I'm Doctor Costa. You probably don't remember me, but I monitored your injury early on while you were in the hospital."

"Um," Eddie said, furrowing his brow in thought. "I don't…I don't remember a lot of things." He stopped, giving Richie a small smile.

Richie knew that the longer Eddie was out of the hospital, the hazier his time there became. What he mostly did remember was what happened between the two of them, but things relating to his injury and his treatment was mostly one big blur. Richie decided that was probably for the best.

"It's okay," the doctor said. "You were in a lot of pain and on a lot of meds." He set the clipboard down on the counter as he went to the sink in the opposite corner from Richie and began washing his hands. "How has your pain been?"

"Okay," Eddie replied, turning on the table slightly to look at the doctor over his shoulder. "I get twinges a lot, but nothing I would really call pain. I'm down to one pain pill a day at the most when it gets particularly bad, but somedays I go without entirely."

"Twinges are normal," Doctor Costa said, nodding and drying his hands on a disposable paper towel. "You'll probably be feeling them for a while as you continue to heal, but they should eventually get fewer and further between and then let up altogether. So you're still good on your pain meds?"

"Yeah," Eddie said. "I've only used ten, so I still have twenty left."

Richie smiled warmly, because leave it to his Eds to know exactly how many fucking pain meds he had left in a bottle.

"Great," the doctor said, pulling a pair of rubber gloves over his hands. "You could probably even switch to something over-the-counter soon if you're not having that much trouble. Ready for me to have a look?" he asked then, gesturing to Eddie's chest.

Eddie nodded, but then the doctor asked, "Is it all right that he stays?" He glanced at Richie, then back at Eddie.

"Yes," Eddie said, trying to contain the smile that threatened to overtake his features. "This is Richie, my best friend," Eddie told the doctor. "He's been helping me, so believe me, he's seen it."

Richie contained the urge to say something smart, mainly about how hard it was for him to witness something so horrific, but Eddie would never forgive him for it. It would hurt Eddie deeply if he thought those thoughts ever crossed Richie's mind, and it would probably be a cold day in hell before Eddie ever let Richie near him again. Not that Richie thought those things at all anyway, because he would have helped Eddie with his stitches a million times over, but Richie's mind sometimes came up with stupid things to say. In the end, Richie only gave Eddie a small smile in return.

The doctor nodded, coming around to Eddie's back and starting to remove the medical tape that held his bandages in place. Richie could see Eddie visibly tense up, his back going rigid and his eyes closing tightly. His hands gripped at the edge of the exam table, his knuckles going white. Richie wanted nothing more than to go to him, to lay a calming hand over Eddie's, but as far as the doctor was concerned, they were just friends. Friends didn't do those sorts of things, did they?

When the doctor had removed most of the bandages, he took a long hard look at the scar going down Eddie's back. Richie swallowed hard, because at first, he thought maybe the doctor saw something wrong. A moment later, the doctor stepped around to Eddie's front. He removed the rest of the bandages from Eddie's upper chest, then stared at the scar there as well.

Richie's heart felt like it lodged itself in his throat and he desperately tried to swallow the feeling away. He was ready to ask the doctor if something was wrong with Eddie's injury, because Jesus. Why was the doctor just standing and staring?

A moment later, the doctor disposed of Eddie's bandages in the garbage can before turning back to Eddie. "Your scar looks really good," the doctor finally said. "I mean, _really_ good. You've obviously been taking great care of it, because it's healing really well."

Eddie shuddered a bit as he exhaled a long breath of air. He opened his eyes and looked down at his stitches quickly before turning to look at Richie once more. "Richie has," Eddie said. Richie could see him swallowing before he said, "Taken good care of it, I mean."

"You wouldn't believe some of the messes I see when people when people come to have their stitches removed," Doctor Costa said. "They neglect cleaning it like they should and they show up with all sorts of infections, then get upset when I tell them stitch removal will have to wait until we get the infection under control."

Eddie let out a small breath of laughter and said, "I'm a bit of a hypochondriac, so I would never let anything around me get infected if I can help it."

Richie snorted. "A _bit_ of a hypochondriac?"

"Shut _up_," Eddie muttered, throwing yet another glare in Richie's direction.

"It's all right," the doctor said, reaching for a small pair of medical scissors on a tray next to the exam table. "I honestly can't believe you had a gaping wound in your chest just a couple weeks ago, because you're healing so well."

"So you're taking the stitches out?" Eddie asked, taking a deep breath.

The doctor nodded. "I'm taking them out."

Eddie let out his breath, closing his eyes in relief. "And, um…what about traveling?" he asked, opening his eyes again. "Richie and I have only been here visiting our childhood friends, and…we're anxious to get home."

"Where's home?"

"Um," Eddie stammered, "my home is in New York, but I don't plan on going back there for long. Just to pick up a few things and tie up some loose ends. Then Richie, um, has actually convinced me to come…visit LA with him. See how I like it."

This caused Richie to raise an eyebrow at Eddie, and all at once, he wasn't entirely sure if Eddie was being honest or if he was putting on a show for the doctor's benefit.

"I don't see why not," the doctor said. "As long as you continue to take care of it like you have been, and you find a doctor out there once you arrive in case anything happens, I'm giving you the all-clear."

Eddie took in a sharp gasp of air before letting it out slowly.

The doctor had made his way around towards Eddie's back again and said, "Turn towards Richie a bit."

Eddie did as he was told, his eyes settling across Richie. Richie smiled warmly at him, and Eddie returned it. Richie had the urge to get up and kiss him, because they were _fucking going home_. They would be back in LA in a few days' time, and Richie was never going to let Eddie go ever again.

"This may be a bit uncomfortable," the doctor said, reaching for the uppermost stitches on Eddie's back. "You'll feel some pressure and pulling."

Richie heard a faint metallic clipping sound as the doctor began to remove Eddie's stitches. Eddie sucked in a breath and made a face at the sensation.

"That feels weird," Eddie said.

"I know," the doctor said as he continued to work.

Doctor Costa slowly finished with Eddie's back, then repeated the process on Eddie's front. When he finished and disposed of the stitches, he reached for more supplies on the tray.

This was when Eddie fully seemed to realize that Richie was watching him, was watching the way the deep pink of the scar wound its way up his stomach and chest. Eddie bit at his lower lip, diverting his gaze across the room, and Richie really wasn't sure why. Like Eddie had told the doctor, Richie had already seen Eddie's scar more times than he could count, but maybe it was simply being exposed like this, sitting bare-chested for both Richie and the doctor to see. Richie wanted nothing more than to kiss him and tell him how beautiful he still thought Eddie was, but that would come later.

"Now, keep in mind that your scar isn't fully healed yet," the doctor said. "The skin is still weak and you're still prone to injuring it or splitting it open. You may resume _light_ normal activity and exercising, but still no heavy lifting or strenuous activity for a period of seven weeks."

"I like to run," Eddie said. "Is that okay now?"

"Yes," the doctor replied, nodding. "Running is fine, but no lifting weights or yoga-type activities. The stretching could put undue pressure on your scar and cause further injuries."

"And definitely no sex," Richie said, and he wasn't sure what in the holy hell had possessed him to say that. It was just that Trashmouth part of his brain that always seemed to want him to get himself into trouble.

Eddie's eyes widened and all at once, a bright red blush sprung to life in his cheeks and stretched down his neck towards his chest. He glared at Richie again.

"Definitely no sex," the doctor said around a chuckle, like he wasn't at all phased by it.

All things considered, Richie supposed it wasn't the first time he had heard that, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

Next, the doctor cleaned Eddie's scar with antiseptic and cotton balls just like Richie had been doing. When he was done with that, the doctor picked up a small spool of tape from the tray and another pair of scissors. "I'm going to apply small strips of medical tape to the scar over where the stiches were. This is just to provide your skin with some extra support while it continues to heal. Absolutely do not pick at or remove the tape. It will come loose and fall off on its own with four to five days."

Eddie nodded at the instructions as the doctor began to cut thin strips of the medical tape and apply them down Eddie's scars on his back and front.

"I'd like you to continue wearing the bandages around your chest for another week or so," the doctor said, picking up a roll of bandages from the tray next. "Again, this is just to give your skin some stability as it heals."

He began to wind the bandages around Eddie's chest again, and Eddie visibly relaxed as his scar was covered again. Although Eddie had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, and Richie was going to spend the rest of his life making sure he knew that.

Doctor Costa finally removed his gloves and disposed of those before leaning back against the sink to look at Eddie. He crossed his arms over his chest as he said, "It's okay to resume showers now, but still avoid soaking the scar in water. Continue cleaning the scar as you have been after every shower. I'll give you some more antiseptic and supplies for that. You can continue to use what you have left of the antibiotic ointment until that's gone. I'll also give you some vitamin E cream, and you can start using that in place of the ointment. It'll help to reduce the appearance of your scar. Now, keep in mind that it'll never be gone completely-"

"Yeah," Eddie whispered. He bit at his lower lip, staring down at his shoes which were dangling down towards the floor from his place on the exam table. "I'm trying to come to terms with that."

"It still looks really good considering the extent of your injuries," the doctor said.

"It really does," Richie chimed in.

"And it'll continue to improve as it heals," the doctor added. "Especially with the excellent care you've been giving it. Continue to monitor it and obviously, if it shows any signs of infections – if it swells, or turns red, or shows any signs of coming apart, or oozing of fluids – get to an emergency room as soon as possible. But I don't foresee that being a problem considering how well it's been healing. And please call my office if you have any questions. I can also get together some references for doctors in LA."

A half an hour later, Richie and Eddie were making their way across the parking lot to Richie's car. Eddie was holding the plastic bag the doctor gave him full of supplies, and he was fiddling nervously with the handles. He was twisting them around his fingers, then stretching them out and watching the material give around his fingertips.

"Hey," Richie said as he fell into step beside Eddie. "We're all ready to go tomorrow then. We're going to get the hell out of this town once and for all."

Eddie gave Richie a half-hearted smile before returning his attention to the bag in his hands.

"What's wrong?" Richie asked, just as they reached the car.

Eddie sighed heavily, letting the bag hang at his side and looking back towards the doctor's office. He leaned back against the passenger's side door of Richie's car. "I just…I know you said you don't care about the scar, but-"

"And I don't."

A smile quickly flitted across Eddie's lips. "I know. But…_I_ do, okay? And I know it's never going to go away, but…I don't know." He frowned, staring down at the bag in his hand again. "Maybe I was hoping for the doctor to tell me I wouldn't be disfigured forever."

Richie's eyebrows knit together as he reached up a hand to cup Eddie's cheek. "You're not disfigured. You're fucking _beautiful_. And you're fucking brave as shit. And I fucking love you."

There was a faint glimmer in Eddie's eyes before he said, "I love you, Richie."

All at once, Richie leaned forward and kissed Eddie. It was only a passing thought in Richie's mind that people could possibly see them, and he honestly didn't care. What mattered to him in that moment was Eddie, and Richie wanted to reassure him that nothing about his feelings for him were going to change. Certainly not because of a scar that Eddie had sustained while trying to save him from the Deadlights.

"Richie," Eddie mumbled against his lips.

"Hm?"

"We're in public."

"Fuck the public," Richie said, finally pulling out of the kiss.

Eddie snickered, blushing red once again, although it was for an entirely different reason than before. A blush that Richie now knew reached down towards Eddie's chest when it got really intense. Richie filed that bit of information away for later.

"Anyway," Richie said, "what's this about you _visiting_ LA to see how you _like_ it?"

"Well, what did you want me to say?" Eddie asked in exasperation, his earlier discomfort forgotten. "'Yeah, Doc, we're going to be shacking up together'?"

Richie shrugged. "Maybe," he said, reaching for the door handle behind Eddie. Eddie stepped out of the way as Richie pulled the door open and said, "He didn't bat an eye at my sex question, so he probably assumed we're already getting it on."

"I can't believe you said that," Eddie said, slapping Richie lightly on his arm. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Yeah, you looked like you were ready to shit yourself." Richie helped Eddie into his seat before leaning in to kiss him again. "What a way to go though, huh? Death by Trashmouth."

Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing against Richie's chest. "Oh my god, get me the hell out of here."

"Want to stop by that sandwich shop around the corner?" Richie asked, grinning. "See if they have a gluten-free option?"

Eddie's expression softened and he said, "Yeah."

Richie closed the door and as he did so, he didn't miss the smile that had settled firmly across Eddie's lips.

* * *

When Richie and Eddie got back to the inn, Eddie immediately went to their bathroom to thoroughly wash his hands, because "doctors' offices and public restaurants are _teeming_ with germs and bacteria!"

Richie used this opportunity to go down the hall to Ben and Beverly's room. Richie's heart was pounding unnaturally hard in his chest as they let him into their room and closed the door behind him.

"Did you get it?" Richie asked, glancing around the room.

Ben picked up a small cream-colored paper bag from where it sat on their bed, holding it up for Richie.

Richie swallowed the lump in his throat as he took the bag and reached for the small black velvet box inside. Setting the bag down on the dresser, Richie opened the box to see the silver and fire opal ring he had picked out just a few days before. He pulled it out of the box and checked the inside of the band to make sure the inscription he wanted was correct. _R+E_ was engraved neatly into the platinum band with a small heart on the other side.

Richie's hands were shaking as he placed the band on the end of his index finger, watching as the silver and fire opal caught and reflected the light.

"Do you guys like it?" Richie asked shakily. God, why was he suddenly so nervous? "Do you think _Eddie_ will like it? I had no idea _what_ the fuck to get, and in hindsight, maybe I should have done some research first, but…this one seemed right."

"It's beautiful," Beverly said. "I'm sure he'll love it. And I imagine the meaning behind it will count for a lot more than the ring itself anyway."

"And everything else is ready to go," Ben said, grinning.

"Jesus, already?" Richie asked. Everything suddenly felt so very real to him – proposing to Eddie and moving to LA with him – and he almost felt like he was going to be sick again. At the same time, however, it wasn't a completely unpleasant feeling. It was certainly nothing like killing someone or almost getting the shit beat out of you by a bunch of homophobes. It was an excited sense of nervousness that had settled itself into Richie's stomach.

"Already," Ben said, nodding. "Just like you asked. Oh, and the lady at the shop told us to tell you 'good luck'."

"Oh, shit, fuck," Richie muttered, running his hand through his hair. "What if he hates the ring? What if he tells I'm out of my fucking mind? I mean, I know I am, but what if he tells me I need to hold my damn horses for a while?"

Beverly reached out a hand, laying it on his shoulder. "He's going to say yes," she told him. "And he's going to love the ring."

Richie took a moment to look down at the ring still sitting around his index finger. "Oh, god. I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Rich," Ben said, grinning. He stepped forward to place his hand on Richie's other shoulder. "Breathe. It's going to be fine. Eddie _wants_ to marry you. You've already talked about this, remember?"

"I know, but fuck," Richie bit out. "What if he meant a long time in the future? What if he's not ready for this just yet? What if he wants to get his divorce finalized first?" Richie paused, all at once feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm out of my goddamn mind."

"Well, we already knew that," Beverly giggled, "but we all still love you anyway. And Eddie _really_ loves you."

"He's going to say yes," Ben added.

Richie's hands were still shaking and his palms had begun to sweat. He rubbed them on the legs of his jeans and tried desperately to quell the feeling of a million and one butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly wished he hadn't eaten two entire sandwiches for lunch, because they felt like a couple of bricks sitting in his stomach.

He leaned forward, wrapping one arm around Ben and the other around Beverly, because he wasn't entirely sure what else to do. He just wanted to feel some comfort from someone and to feel like he wasn't going to die of embarrassment if everything didn't go as planned tonight.

"Even if he tells me to fuck off," Richie said, his voice sounded a bit strangled, "I want you to know that I appreciate you. Thank you. For everything." He gripped Ben's shoulder especially tightly at these words, silently thanking Ben for being the first person (other than Eddie) that he came out to. For making it _so fucking easy_ for Richie to be himself.

Ben seemed to understand, gripping Richie's back tightly. "Believe me," Ben said warmly, "if he hasn't told you to fuck off by now, he's not going to."

"Actually, he tells me that every single day," Richie said around a nervous laugh. "It's when he _stops_ saying that that I have a reason to be scared shitless."

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: Richie's proposal was supposed to be a part of this chapter, but in the end, I decided it was best to have it as its own thing rather than tacked onto the end of this. But it's coming next! What do you think Richie has planned?_


	18. Chapter 18: Last Night in Derry

_Author's note: So our power went out this evening, and what else is there to do except read and finish a chapter? And what was I thinking considering putting this at the end of the last chapter? This is fucking enormous all on its own. I hope you enjoy!_

**Brave  
**Chapter 18 – Last Night in Derry

It was just edging on towards sunset as Richie parked along the side of the road and turned off the car's engine. The sun was a large ball of fire in the west, beginning to stain the sky in oranges and reds. This made Richie smile, because it reminded him of a little ring nestled inside a velvet box in the pocket of his pants. His hand cupped the small bulge in his jeans protectively, almost checking to make sure it was still there. That he wasn't imagining things.

"The Barrens?" Eddie asked as he surveyed their surroundings out the passenger's side window. He then raised his eyebrow at Richie skeptically and asked, "This is where you brought me for our last romantic night in Derry?"

"I want to show you something," Richie said, removing his key from the ignition and stepping out of the car. He came around to Eddie's side and helped him out of his seat.

"Did you carve our initials somewhere down there too?" Eddie asked, standing face-to-face with Richie and pressing his hands against the front of Richie's sweatshirt.

"Mm, not quite, but there's something else I want to show you." Richie took Eddie's hand and started leading him towards the steep embankment that led down into the Barrens.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Eddie said, stopping in his tracks and pulling Richie back by his hand. "I can't fucking go down there!" he cried, gesturing towards the line of trees. "Are you out of your mind?! I could fall, and split my scar open all over again, and set my healing back weeks or even _months_! You know there's greywater down there, and that could seriously impede my healing right now if I get it anywhere near my scar. You heard what the doctor said! I'm still prone to infections! I could end up with a staph infection, or listeria, or-"

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist, pulled him closer, and thrust his hips forward. "I'll show you a 'staff' infection," he said around a grin. "You know that's what I really wanted to do all those years ago when I held up that branch instead?"

"_Richie_!" Eddie cried indignantly, slapping his hand playfully against Richie's chest. "This is serious!"

"I won't let you fall," Richie softly, tightening his hold around Eddie's waist. He had seen Eddie's freak out coming a mile away when he originally came up with this idea, and he had been fully prepared to calm him down. "Promise. And we won't be going into the sewer either. Trust me."

"I do," Eddie said, his eyes darting past Richie to the steep incline that led down to the Barrens. He bit at his bottom lip. "I just…this is _serious_," he said again.

"And I'm being serious."

"You just made a joke about a 'staff' infection. That's not being serious."

"I mean about not letting you fall," Richie said firmly. "I'll never let you fall. Not now, not ever. It's why I wouldn't leave you down in that sewer to die."

Eddie's hands trailed from Richie's chest to his upper arms, squeezing Richie's biceps tightly. "Rich…"

"Trust me?"

The smallest of smiles flitted across Eddie's lips as he glanced down at Richie's chest for a moment. With his eyes there and his hands on Richie's arms, it was almost like he was sizing up Richie's strength to see if he really was capable of keeping Eddie safe. Eddie finally nodded, glanced back up to Richie, and said, "Yes."

Richie reached to take one of Eddie's hands in his own before turning and leading him towards the line of trees and down the steep embankment to the Barrens.

"I thought this was supposed to be romantic," Eddie complained just as they made their way to the bottom of the hill.

"And holding your hand down a steep hill isn't?" Richie asked, turning around to grin at Eddie. He was walking backwards now, still guiding Eddie along the forest floor. He put his free hand over his own chest and said, "You're hurting my feelings here."

"Watch where you're fucking going, dumbass!" Eddie snapped, pointing at the fallen branches and unsteady lay of the ground.

"I've got you," Richie said, stepping forward so that his body was flush against Eddie's again. He wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist once more. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He pressed his forehead against Eddie's, smiling down at him.

Eddie didn't like to be coddled and Richie knew it, but sometimes Richie just liked to reassure Eddie that he was safe.

"Besides," Richie added, "who already got stabbed by a fucking space clown and lived to tell the tale?"

Eddie smiled, letting his hands settle against Richie's chest again. It seemed as if Eddie liked putting them there, and Richie liked having them there. Liked the feel of Eddie relaxing against him.

"Me," Eddie said, frowning in determination. His eyes trailed down again, this time settling on his hands atop Richie's chest. "And I never told you why, did I?"

"Why what?"

"Why I lived," Eddie said, his eyes once again meeting Richie's.

"Yeah, 'cause I wouldn't leave you lying down there," Richie said, his voice bordering on pride. "And because the doctors were good at their jobs?"

Eddie thumped one of his hands against Richie's chest. "I don't mean that. I mean…I never told you what gave me the will to live." Eddie had started playing with one of the laces on Richie's hoodie, letting it thread in between his fingers.

Richie blinked at him, not really sure what Eddie was getting at. "No," he finally said. "I guess you didn't."

"Because believe me," Eddie said, swallowing hard, "if knew I was doomed to go back to Myra…I might have checked out then and there. What would even be the point of living only to go back to _that_? To a life, to a _wife_ I hated. But…I didn't want to leave you." Eddie raised his eyes, holding Richie's gaze firmly. "Not when I just got you back. Not when I just remembered…everything."

Richie blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Even though his relationship with Eddie was slowly becoming his new normal, he still didn't think he'd ever get used to Eddie saying shit like this to him.

"So…I…I mean, you lived for me?" Richie asked quietly.

Eddie smiled. "For you."

"Even before…? Even when we were just still friends?"

"Even before," Eddie repeated. "Because I think…I had this crazy thought down there in the sewer that if we both made it out alive, that I would fucking tell you how I felt. Because we'd lost so much time and came so close to dying too many times to…not take that risk. We killed that fucking clown twice, which is the _scariest_ thing I've ever done in my life by far, and I was afraid to tell you how I felt? It didn't make any sense. I…I think I would have told you even if you hadn't confessed everything to me while I was sleeping. I didn't want to die without you knowing."

"Fuck," Richie said, wrapping his arms around Eddie's back and hugging him tightly. "You're so fucking _brave_, you know that? You fought back from the brink of death just to…tell me you loved me." Richie let out a soft breath that ruffled through Eddie's hair. "Jesus, did I really mean that much to you?"

"_Yes_," Eddie insisted, pulling back to stare Richie in the eyes. "You haven't figured that out by now? Do…do I not tell you that enough?"

"No, you do," Richie replied. "It's just…I don't know. I still have a hard time believing that this is happening, you know? That of all the people in the world, you want to be with me. _Me_. My dumb annoying ass."

"I do," Eddie said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. "No one else. Just you. It's always been you."

"For me too," Richie said, and tried not to focus too much on the fact that Eddie had said _I do_. That brought Richie's thoughts slamming back to the little ring hiding in his pocket, to the fact that he was about to ask Eddie to marry him, and that Eddie just might say those words to him at some point in the future under completely different circumstances. All of these thoughts swirling around in Richie's mind seemed to make his heart flip over multiple times in his chest.

Oblivious to the fact that Richie might be having a mild heart attack, Eddie tucked his head under Richie's chin and sighed contentedly. "Okay. So maybe this is a little bit romantic."

"Told you," Richie said. "And you had the audacity to doubt me." He pulled away from Eddie, grabbing his hand again and guiding him farther through the woods.

"Well, you know," Eddie said after him. "You're so full of shit half the time, I never know what to believe."

"Only when I'm making jokes! There's a difference."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Neither of them spoke again until they got to the stream and Eddie began to complain again.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, and Richie felt Eddie's hand clench around his. "Greywater drains _into_ this stream. Fuck, if I fall right now and my scar gets infected, I'm _never_ forgiving you!"

"I told you, I'm never letting you fall," Richie replied. He slowed his walk until Eddie fell into step beside him. Richie then wrapped his arm around Eddie's back, looping it under his arms so that he'd feel more supported.

"So if you go down, I'm going down too," Eddie pointed out, his eyes locked on the rocks and running water underneath his feet. "Why do I let you talk me into this shit?"

"If I go down, you'll fall on top of me," Richie said reassuringly, "and you'll be safe from the spooky greywater."

"I'd knock you down into said greywater right now if I wasn't afraid for my life. And you know what? It's official," Eddie muttered, still not taking his gaze from the path his feet were making through the water. "I've lost my damn mind. I let you talk me into this nonsense, and I've decided I want to move in with you. I'm not firing on all eight cylinders anymore, so be very afraid."

Richie snorted. "When have you ever been firing on all eight cylinders?"

"Fuck off."

"Eds?"

"What?" Eddie snapped.

At long last, Richie stepped onto the soft grass where the stream turned sharply to the right. He turned towards Eddie, carefully helping him with his last few steps across the uneven rocks until he was on solid ground as well.

"We made it," Richie said, grinning and wrapping an arm around Eddie's waist again. "You can stop complaining now."

"We still have to cross it when we go back out, asshole!" Eddie yelled, gesturing back the way they had come. "And I'm never going to stop complaining."

"Okay, good," Richie said. "The only time you've ever stopped complaining in your life was when you were in a medically induced coma, so I'd actually be worried if you stopped."

Eddie narrowed his eyes at Richie. "Do you want to show me something or not?"

"Yeah, I do," Richie said. "I told you, I want to show you a 'staff' infection." He pressed his hips forward into Eddie's once more, just like he had done at the top of the steep hill.

"Oh my _god_, I get it – 'staff' infection," Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes. "You're so hilarious. And fucking annoying." But Richie didn't miss the tiniest smile that twitched at Eddie's lips, so Richie only ended up wrapping his arms around Eddie even more tightly. "Why are you _like_ this?" Eddie demanded.

"It's what I do when I'm nervous," Richie admitted before he was fully aware of what he was saying. "You know that by now."

A puzzled expression suddenly swept across Eddie's face, his earlier frustration seemingly forgotten. "What the hell are you nervous about? It's not like it's even our first date anymore, and…it's just me. We're never nervous when it's just us. That's why…that's why this works. Because it's comfortable. Because you feel like home."

Richie swallowed hard, his throat feeling tight, and he wasn't sure if it was because of his words or Eddie's. Richie was just suddenly aware that he'd said too much and that his secret was bound to coming spilling out at any moment if he kept up his conversation. Finally relinquishing his hold on Eddie, Richie continued guiding Eddie through the Barrens by the hand.

"You're still not telling me what we're doing?" Eddie asked.

"Nope. You'll see."

"Rich…"

"What?"

"Jesus Christ."

This made Richie smile, because he loved this man so fucking much it almost hurt. How had he forgotten about this for so long? How had he forgotten about _Eddie_, and the way they always bickered, and the way they fit together like two puzzle pieces, and just _Eddie_? The bickering that Richie now knew was what they had always done instead of flirt. Richie's dad had always told him that that was what he did with girls in his class that he had liked – teased them – but Richie had never understood that. He didn't even understand it himself when he had first started doing it, because he was doing it with _Eddie_, and that would have been all kinds of wrong. And it had just become another way for Richie (and apparently Eddie too) to hide what was really going on.

And now…just as Eddie had said, it felt like home. Richie burrowing underneath Eddie's skin, because it kind of felt safe there. When Richie didn't know who the fuck he even was, or how to be comfortable in his own skin, at least he found a home with Eddie somehow. And as much as Eddie would get annoyed and frustrated with him, they both knew it was never really serious, and it would always be forgotten a few minutes later. Lost in the chasm that still existed between them and that had only finally been closed when Eddie had first kissed him in the hospital.

But here they were, still bickering and trying to annoy the shit out of each other, even though they really didn't need to flirt anymore. Or maybe they did and it was part of their courtship. Richie wasn't sure, but either way, it was who they were as a couple. It was who they had been, even back then, and it was comfortable.

"Okay," Richie said when they finally got to their destination. "Wait here for a minute, okay?"

Eddie's eyes went to the hole in the ground and then back up to Richie again. "The clubhouse?" he asked, one of his eyebrows going up.

"Jesus Christ, Eds. Where did you _think_ I was bringing you?" Richie asked. "Did you really think I was going to take you into the sewer for a romantic date or some shit? Or into the quarry so you could get your scar all nice and infected? Where else _is_ there down here that's safe for you right now?"

"I don't know!" Eddie cried, throwing his hands up. "This is a Richie Tozier idea. I never know what the fuck to expect from you."

"Well, close your eyes, okay?"

Eddie huffed out a short breath before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.

Fuck, and Richie suddenly felt nervous all over again, even more nervous than he had when he'd admitted it to Eddie. His heart had leapt up into his throat, and Richie could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his ears. He felt very hot all over, even though it was already well into autumn in Maine, and there was a comfortable coolness in the air.

Richie left Eddie standing there before making his way down into the clubhouse, trying his best not to fall down the ladder, because his legs felt like they were full of jelly. Richie was reminded of how he had felt in the hospital right before Eddie had kissed him – scared to death and exhilarated all at the same time.

When Richie set foot on the dirty floor of the clubhouse, he took a moment to try and gather himself. He took a few deep breaths, rubbing his clammy hands on the legs of his jeans. But then when he took a look around at what Ben and Bev had left for them, Richie's heart began to pound all over again. It was everything that he had asked for and more, because apparently they had decided to add a couple strings of little Christmas lights all along the ceiling.

Richie reached a hand underneath his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, feeling a sudden burst of emotion coming on. How had he ever in his life thought that his friends wouldn't accept him for who he was? And not only were they accepting him, but they were doing everything in their power to create romantic date nights for him and Eddie. What the fuck had he ever done to get so lucky? He shook his head to try and quell the feeling before straightening his glasses on his nose.

The Christmas lights weren't on, so Richie found the very end of them where he located a little switch. When he flipped it, they sprung to life, flooding the tiny and gloomy clubhouse with soft white light.

"Oh, shit, fuck," Richie muttered when he took in what else they had set up in the middle of the clubhouse. "Oh my god, what am I doing?" He ran his hands through his hair, trying desperately to keep from freaking the fuck out. He suddenly felt like Eddie on the verge of having a panic attack.

"Rich?" Eddie called to him from up on the forest floor. "Everything okay down there?"

"Yeah," Richie replied, his voice cracking on the word. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Yeah. Come down."

"Do I have to keep my eyes closed for that too?" Eddie asked. "Because I'm liable to break my neck trying to navigate to a massive hole in the ground, let alone tearing my scar wide open."

Richie smiled a little at this and then said, "No, but try not to look until you get down here, okay? Keep your eyes on the wall when you come down."

"On the wall," Eddie repeated as he came over to the ladder. He turned around and dropped to his knees before he started to put his feet on the first rung. He paused then and asked, "You're going to make sure I don't fall, right?"

"I'll never let you fall."

Eddie remained in his position a moment longer before taking a deep breath and slowly descending the ladder. Richie reached up and held his hands just below Eddie in case he started to fall. Then when Eddie was within reach, Richie firmly and comfortably placed his hands on Eddie ass.

"_Richie_!" Eddie squeaked, freezing in place. One of his hands flew out, probably to try and swat at Richie, but then he thought better of it. He placed it back on the side of the ladder as if he was holding on for dear life.

"What?" Richie asked, trying his best to sound innocent. "I'm making sure you don't fall."

"Fuck you! That's not the way to do it!" Eddie snapped, still slowly coming down the ladder. "You almost made me fall _off_ the ladder, asshole!"

"I would have broken your fall, don't worry."

"Keep it up and I'm going to break _you_ in a minute."

Richie helped him down the last few rungs of the ladder until Eddie was standing on solid ground again. He placed his hands on his knees, taking some deep breaths to try and calm himself from his little scare.

"Can I look now?" Eddie asked when his breathing had evened back out again.

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist from behind, placing his chin on Eddie's shoulder. "Yeah," Richie whispered in his ear. "Look."

Richie kept his arms around Eddie as they turned around together, Eddie let out a soft breath as he took in the clubhouse around them. His eyes traveled around the ceiling at the Christmas lights, then back to the center of the room where the main attraction was.

Ben and Bev had attained a brand new hammock, bright red in color, and had strung it up between two of the pillars, just like it had been when they were little. This hammock was a little bigger, however, better to accommodate two adults rather than two small and scrawny children.

"Rich," Eddie said, his voice quiet and breathless. "When did you do all this?"

"Again, I can't take the credit for it," Richie admitted. "I told Ben and Bev what I wanted and…they're fucking amazing. We should do something nice for them."

Eddie hummed in agreement before he said, "We're going back to LA, you know." He turned around in Richie's arms, placing his hands on Richie's chest again before he said, "What are you going to do when they're not there to bring your ideas to life?" He was smiling and there was a little glint in his eyes.

"I'm not completely helpless," Richie said. "I'll take it over from here. This was just easier, because I just didn't want you to know what I was planning, and it's hard to keep things quiet when we're living in a single room."

Eddie let out a soft breath before standing up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Richie's lips.

When they broke the kiss, Richie let go of Eddie before going over to the hammock. "Want to sit in the hammock with me?"

"Is…is it safe?" Eddie asked warily. His eyes went up the pillars, carefully examining the way the hammock was affixed to the wood. "That would definitely rip my scar open if it fell while I was on it."

"Perfectly safe," Richie reassured him. "Ben's a fucking architect. Don't you think he knows what he's doing by now? And Ben and Bev both tested it together and they assured me that it's not coming down. And how come you never cared about it falling when you were fighting me for it when we were kids?"

"Because we were kids!" Eddie snapped. He was now pulling at the sides of the hammock and checking to make sure that its fastenings were secure. "Falling a couple feet at thirteen is way fucking different than falling a couple feet at forty! Especially after one of us had a big, gaping hole in his chest."

"I'll test it for you," Richie said, pressing a kiss to Eddie's cheek. He carefully climbed into the hammock and stretched out, just like he used to do when he was little. Then he held his hand out for Eddie. "Come on."

Richie could see Eddie swallowing, his eyes still flitting between the two pillars where the hammock was secured. He slowly stepped forward, placing his hand inside Richie's. A moment later, Eddie carefully and turned and sat down in between Richie's legs.

He apparently wasn't quite ready for the hammock to droop so much, because his hands flew out and his eyes grew as large as quarters. "Oh, shit," Eddie said just before he stilled in the cradle of the hammock.

"You okay?" Richie asked, leaning forward and placing a hand on Eddie's arm.

"Yeah," Eddie said around a gulp of air. "I guess I…you know, kind of forget what it felt like to be in a hammock. It's…been a long time. And I weigh a lot more now than I did when I was thirteen."

"It's all muscle now," Richie said, squeezing Eddie's bicep. "And…was the last time you were in a hammock down here with me?"

"Yeah."

"Me too," Richie said before tugging on Eddie's arm. "Come over here."

It took some maneuvering, but eventually Eddie was seated facing Richie. They had both dropped their legs over the edge of hammock, their feet hanging down towards the ground. Eddie's thighs were over top of Richie, and he was seated in that little space in between Richie's own thighs.

"Remember when you said you first wanted to kiss me when we squeezed into the hammock together?" Richie asked, leaning forward. He placed his hands over top of Eddie's thighs, just like he had wanted to do all those years ago as well. Then he kissed Eddie.

Eddie hummed with pleasure into his mouth, first settling his hands against Richie's chest and then wrapping them around his neck. When Richie broke the kiss and pulled away, he settled his head back against the hammock and stared at Eddie. Because fuck. He didn't think he'd ever be back here – in the hammock in the clubhouse with Eddie actually kissing him instead of just wishing for it. To have Eddie's thighs underneath his hands instead of trying his very best to keep his fucking hands to himself.

"I was almost going to take you to the Kissing Bridge tonight," Richie told him, "but after what happened there the last time, I decided against it."

Eddie hummed in response, smiling. "This is nice too. So are we just going to sit in the hammock and make out all night?" Eddie asked. "Not that I have a problem with that, because I don't." Eddie pressed his lips against Richie's again as if to prove his point.

"That was part of it, yeah," Richie said, grinning as Eddie broke the kiss. "But that's not all of it."

Eddie stared at him. "Don't even _think_ you're going to _seduce_ me in a _hammock_ in this _dirty ass clubhouse_! Because I shudder to think about what kinds of bacteria and _germs_ are down here, which is the least conducive place for sex, and I'm not supposed to be having sex anyway!"

Richie couldn't help it. He threw his head back against the hammock and laughed. He laughed so hard, it felt like his stomach might explode.

"Shut the fuck up!" Eddie cried, swatting at Richie's chest playfully. "Is having sex with me really that funny?" He was frowning deeply, then he brought his arms up to cross them over his chest.

"No!" Richie cried, wiping away the tears that had started pouring out of the corners of his eyes. "Not at all." He reached out for Eddie's hands, uncrossing his arms and gripping his hands tightly in both of his. "Believe me, if we ever got to that point where we both feel ready, I'd probably die and go to heaven."

Eddie diverted his gaze from Richie's for a moment, frowning a little bit at Richie's words and biting at his bottom lip.

Richie paused for a moment before he quickly added, "Not that I'm not happy now! That's not what I meant. Because I _am _happy_._ I told you, I'm happier than I've ever been in my _life_. We don't have to be having sex for this to be the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Eddie smiled at Richie's words. "I know," he said. "But…you really don't care that I'm not…ready to jump into the bed with you?"

"Fuck no!" Richie exclaimed. "I told you, if all we ever do is share a mattress – or a hammock – I will die a happy man. Okay? I've been a sexually repressed gay guy for forty fucking years. I want you to take as long as you need, because believe me, I'm perfectly okay with waiting. And I'm more than happy with what we're doing now."

"Me too."

"And why do you always act like _I don't know you_?" Richie asked dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "Like I would try and seduce you down here of all places. Trust me, I have no desire to give you a fucking panic attack while we're trying to get it on."

Eddie let out a soft laugh before he asked, "So what exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well…" Richie said, drawing out the sound to try and give himself a moment to gather his thoughts. "I was just thinking about some things and…I wanted to tell you something."

"Tell me what?"

"I just…know you've been sort of unsure about whether or not this is really what I want."

"Richie, I'm not…" Eddie began, but then he stopped, pressing his mouth closed. Then he closed his eyes before he said, "No. No secrets, right?"

"No secrets."

"Okay, so I am," Eddie admitted, opening his eyes again. "I get fucking worried about losing shit like this. I worry about losing things that make me happy and…I worry about losing the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me. But that has nothing to do with you, okay? It just has everything to do with my mother and…I'm trying my fucking best to accept the fact that you're not like that. I know you're not. You're not like her and you never will be."

"I'm not," Richie repeated. He suddenly let go of Eddie's thigh and reached underneath Eddie's leg. Richie squirmed a bit to fit his hand into his pocket from this position, but he finally did, enclosing his hand around the little velvet box there.

Eddie watched him curiously as Richie freed the ring from his pocket and held the box up for Eddie.

"_Oh_," Eddie whispered, his mouth hanging open.

"I want you know that I'm committed to this," Richie said, trying his very best to keep his voice and his hand from trembling. "I'm committed to _you_. I'm committed to _us_. I'm not going to give up and run away if shit gets hard, because…that's all I've been doing my entire life. Running away, and I'm tired of it. I'm certainly not going to run away from the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I…just want to _be_ me. And Richie Tozier _wants_ to marry Eddie Kaspbrak. If you'll have him." Richie held his breath as he reached up with his other hand to open the box, revealing the silver and fire opal ring inside. He looked back up at Eddie and asked, "Marry me?"

"Oh, shit," Eddie gasped, his eyes wide and his mouth still hanging open. His expression hadn't changed throughout Richie's speech, and Richie was really beginning to wish that Eddie would give him _some_ kind of sign as to his thoughts right now.

But this was Eddie, and Eddie was going to leave Richie out to dry for a little while longer.

"Rich…" Eddie gasped out, his eyes going to the ring box in Richie's hand and then back up to Richie's face. "When did you _get_ this?"

"_This_ is what I was doing when I said I was at Mike's," Richie finally admitted. "I was shopping for your ring."

That faint frown line appeared in between Eddie's eyebrows and he asked, "So you lied to me?"

Richie swallowed hard, his stomach flipping uncomfortably. "Um…well, yeah, I did, but…I just wanted to surprise you, and I didn't know how and-"

Eddie's frown suddenly gave way to a grin and he snickered. "I was teasing. Relax. A surprise like this is a perfectly acceptable reason to make up a stupid lie."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Richie said. He let his head drop back against the hammock, staring up at the ceiling of the clubhouse. "You know, I'm already enough of a nervous wreck. You don't have to try to give me a heart attack too. I already kind of had a small one of those today. _Shit_."

"You know I had to try and get you back for dragging me down here."

"So is this not a good enough reason to drag you down here?"

Eddie was still smiling and then he leaned forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Richie's neck. Eddie didn't say anything, but he just held Richie, turning his head to place little kisses along Richie's cheek.

"So…um," Richie asked, still slightly perturbed at Eddie's lack of an answer, "is that a yes or what?"

Eddie shook slightly against him, and Richie wasn't sure if it was from laughter or from tears. Maybe it was a little bit of both. Eddie pulled away, still keeping his arms around Richie's neck as he smiled down at him. Just as Richie had suspected, there was the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

"It's a yes," Eddie whispered.

All at once, Richie's heart felt like it had plummeted down into his stomach before it settled back into his chest and started beating normally again. "Yeah?" Richie asked hopefully.

"Yes," Eddie said again, his tears now evident in his voice.

"You…you don't think I'm crazy for not waiting until your divorce goes through?" Richie asked. "You don't think I'm rushing things or-"

Eddie placed a finger over Richie's lips to silence him. "I told you this morning back at the inn," Eddie told him. "Things _are_ moving fast, but…that's okay. I mean, it's been a long time coming, you know? We didn't just…start feeling these things overnight."

"But you know what I realized?" Richie asked. "You know why I really wanted to do this?"

"Hm?"

"Yeah, I was always in love with you," Richie said. "I told you, I have been basically forever, but…that was when we were kids. We were different people then. I've kind of realized that we really didn't know each other as adults, and since we've been back in Derry…" Richie paused for a moment, taking one of Eddie's hands in his free one. "I've fallen in love with you all over again." Richie let out a soft breath before he added, "I didn't even think it was possible to fall this much more in love with you."

Eddie's chest was heaving slightly from emotion, and he leaned forward again, pressing his lips against Richie's. Richie could feel the tears that had been clinging to Eddie's lips, sliding between their skin, could taste them, salty on his tongue.

"I didn't either," Eddie whispered against his lips. He pulled back slightly before he added, "I thought what I felt when I was _thirteen_ was intense, but…_shit_. It was nothing compared to this."

"_Nothing_."

"Is it wrong to say that I didn't know what love was until now?" Eddie asked. "Because I'm sure I did. I can't describe what I felt for you back then as anything _but_ love, but…"

"I know," Richie agreed, his free hand drifting across Eddie's thigh to grip his waist.

"So are you going to put it on or what?"

"Oh, shit," Richie said, the ring momentarily forgotten in his euphoria from Eddie's answer. Eddie pulled back farther as Richie fumbled with the box, pulling the ring from its velvet cocoon. Richie let the little box drop to his lap while he sought out Eddie's left hand with his free one. But then he paused and said, "Look on the inside."

Eddie took the ring from Richie for a moment, slowly turning it over in his fingers. "_R+E_," Eddie said quietly. And then he added, "And a heart on the other side." His voice cracked on the word _heart_. He pressed his lips together to keep them from quivering before handing the ring back over to Richie.

Richie's hands were shaking again, especially when he glanced up into Eddie's face and found his eyes swimming with more tears. But then as Richie slid the ring onto Eddie's finger, he could feel Eddie's hand shaking in his, so at least he wasn't alone.

"Do…do you like it?" Richie asked nervously, still not sure if he had chosen the right ring or not. "Does it fit okay? If it doesn't, the lady said we could bring it back to get it resized-"

"It's beautiful, Rich," Eddie said, sniffling and holding his hand out to stare at the ring. "I love it. You know what I like. It's fucking perfect. And it fits perfect."

"I wasn't sure, because…I told you," Richie said, still stumbling over his words, because he was still in shock. "I knew what you liked when we were kids, but…I've been getting to know you now, and…I wasn't sure."

"I love it," Eddie repeated, leaning forward and kissing Richie so fiercely, Richie thought his brain might have broken at some point. None of this seemed real. None of this felt like it was actually happening to _him_, because shit like this _never_ happened to him. _Ever_.

Eddie leaned forward into Richie's chest, laying his head and his left hand there, his ring glinting softly in the white Christmas lights. Eddie wound his other arm around Richie's waist, hugging him tightly. "I love you," Eddie whispered.

"I love you," Richie said, wrapping his arms tightly around Eddie.

Richie took a moment to look down at Eddie in his arms then, at the ring sitting around Eddie's finger. The ring that Richie had bought him, and Richie didn't think he'd ever been happier in his life than he was right then. He also didn't think he'd ever tire of simply _staring_ at the ring on Eddie's finger, knowing that Eddie fucking wanted _him_ out of all the people in the world. Richie suddenly wanted to capture to moment, so he reached into his other pocket, fishing out his phone.

Eddie glanced up for a moment before he asked, "Are you taking a picture?"

"Yeah," Richie said. "Don't move."

Eddie tucked his head back underneath Richie's chin, a smile growing over his mouth. Richie laid his cheek over Eddie's head to get in the frame and squeezed his shoulders tightly. Richie made sure to get Eddie's ring in the frame too and smiled softly before snapping the picture. Then he held it up for Eddie to see.

"Mm," Eddie hummed sleepily. "You look happy."

"You do too," Richie said. A moment later, he laughed as a thought struck him. "Should we send this to Myra, do you think?"

Eddie snorted against Richie's chest. "Yeah, okay. If you _really_ want her to kill me, because she'll probably chop me up into tiny little pieces for this."

"You watch too much true crime shit, Eds." Richie paused, looking at the menu on his phone. He had the most absurd idea ever. "What about Twitter?"

"_What_?" Eddie asked, lifting his head to stare at Richie. "You can't possibly be serious."

"With like a little caption that says, 'In case you've been wondering where I've been, I got engaged! Isn't he cute?!'" Richie suggested.

"Rich," Eddie said, placing both hands on Richie's chest and holding his gaze. "You know I support whatever it is _you_ want to do, but…don't you think some formal announcement or some shit would be best?" Eddie eyed Richie's phone out of the corner of his eye. "All hell might break loose. Are you really ready for that?"

"No," Richie said around a sigh. "Not really. Sometimes I just really wish it was that easy, you know? That I could post this sort of thing like normal people without having to think about it. But you're right. And my manager would _really_ want to kill me too if I suddenly fucking came out on Twitter without warning. I'm just…it's because I'm excited and I want to scream it from the rooftops that you said yes. That you're making my fucking dream come true."

Eddie giggled, tucking his head back underneath Richie's chin. "Mine too."

"I'm going to make you the happiest man on the face of the earth," Richie promised, tightening his free arm around Eddie's shoulders.

"You already have," Eddie replied, squeezing his own arm around Richie's waist. Then he suggested, "You could send it to the rest of the Losers. And send me a copy."

So that was what Richie did. He sent it off to each of the Losers with the caption, "He said yes!" It wasn't the rest of the world, but for now, it didn't really matter. It didn't matter, because Eddie was his fiancé, and that was all Richie had ever fucking wanted in his life. Except for marrying him, but that would come later.

_To be continued…_


	19. Chapter 19: Last Morning in Derry

_Author's note: Happy fourth of July to all of my lovely readers here in the US (and everyone else as well)! Stay safe and keep your pets safe as well!_

_Also, I apologize if this chapter shows up multiple times in your notifications. For some bizarre reason, I somehow uploaded the chapter of another story instead of this one - twice! Because I probably shouldn't be posting at three in the morning. This is the correct one now!_

**Brave  
**Chapter 19 – Last Morning in Derry

Eddie awoke the next morning with Richie curled up around his side of the bed. Richie's arm was thrown over Eddie's stomach and his leg was wrapped around one of Eddie's. Richie also had his nose was pressed into the side of Eddie's neck, and Eddie could feel Richie's breath soft and warm against his skin. Turning his head, Eddie buried his nose into Richie's dark curls, smiling into his hair.

A moment later, however, the previous night's events came flooding back to Eddie in full force. He suddenly remembered the ring he was now wearing on his finger and the fact that Richie had asked Eddie to marry him. Even though they had already previously agreed that it was something they both wanted, Eddie had never imagined that Richie would go out and buy him a ring and propose to him before they even left Derry.

It was way more than Eddie had even hoped for. Not only did Richie love him and want to be with him, but he wanted to spend forever with Eddie on top of that. While Eddie knew that Richie's gesture wouldn't fix things completely (his mother had gone out of her way to fuck him up for a very long time), Eddie also knew that Richie wouldn't have done this unless he was absolutely serious about Eddie. And that did count for a lot.

Richie wanted _him_. Out of all the people on the face of the earth, Richie had _chosen him_.

Eddie's left hand was trapped in between his and Richie's bodies, so he wiggled a bit in order to free it. When he succeeded, he held his hand up, using his thumb to jiggle the ring slightly on his finger, watching the way the opal caught and reflected the bright morning sunlight.

Eddie sighed contentedly.

Richie stirred next to him, and Eddie could feel him smiling into his neck. "Happy?" Richie asked sleepily.

Smiling in return, Eddie lowered his hand to grip the one that Richie had laying over his stomach. "Happier than I've ever been," Eddie whispered. He swallowed hard and said, "You really want this." It wasn't a question, but a statement, because Eddie was still trying to really make it sink in. It didn't quite feel real, and he wondered if it ever would.

"Yeah, I do."

"You really want _me_."

"More than anything."

Eddie let out another soft sigh and said, "I told you, this was what I wanted all those years ago when you dragged me to your aunt's wedding, but never in a million years did I think I'd get it."

"Me too," Richie said, kissing Eddie's neck. "I love you so much."

"I love you," Eddie responded, turning his head and kissing Richie gently. "And I'm sorry for being a complete and total dumbass."

Richie hummed against Eddie's lips before he asked, "Which instance of you being a dumbass are you referring to? Because you're going to have to narrow it down a little bit for me."

Eddie playfully elbowed Richie in the chest. "You know, when you were buying my ring and I was sitting here, worrying that you had changed your mind about us. And you were _buying my ring_," he repeated, throwing his right arm over his eyes.

Richie snickered. He turned his arm in Eddie's grip, grasping Eddie's left hand tightly in his. He threaded their fingers together and then ran his thumb over the engagement ring on Eddie's finger. "It's fine," Richie murmured. "But like I said, whenever you are having those doubts, just come talk to me, okay? Because I promise I'm not going to change my mind about us."

Eddie let his arm drop from over his eyes, instead laying that arm across Richie's arm as well, his thumb running across the hair there. God, he loved all these things about Richie that were so _manly_. He tightened the fingers of his other hand around Richie's before saying, "Okay."

"Besides," Richie admitted, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my own doubts about you saying yes."

Eddie blinked, pulling away slightly to meet Richie's eyes. "You seriously thought I'd say no? After we already talked about it?"

"I told you," Richie said, "I was afraid you'd tell me this was all way too soon and that I needed hold my fucking horses for a while." Richie snorted and said, "Ask Ben and Bev. I had a small freak out in their room yesterday, terrified that you'd think I was crazy, and that you'd hate the ring, and-"

"I love it," Eddie cut him off gently. He kissed Richie's forehead. "It's beautiful."

"It reminded me of you."

"Of me?"

Richie hummed in response. "'Cause it looks like it's on fire and that's how I'd describe you – because I've never met anyone that's as fucking fiery and passionate as you."

Eddie stilled in his arms. "You…you think I'm passionate?"

"Fuck yeah," Richie said. "The way you get so intense about things you believe in and the way you kiss me sometimes – you're _so_ passionate."

Eddie frowned deeply, because he never considered half of the things he did out of habit, and paranoia, and irritation as _passionate_. "What you call passionate I've always thought of as annoying," Eddie pointed out.

"When you kiss me the way you do?" Richie asked, quirking an eyebrow. "When we're making out, and you get all hot and bothered, and start _thrusting_ your hips against mine?" Richie pressed his hips insistently into Eddie's thigh, grinning mischievously. "Not a chance."

"That's not what I mean," Eddie said, pressing his thigh back into Richie in annoyance. He huffed out a sigh and said, "I wouldn't call having a fucking panic attack _passionate_. I know it's a pain in the ass, plain and simple."

"Okay, I wasn't talking about your panic attacks when I said you were passionate," Richie argued, "and you know it. But you're not a pain." Richie tightened his arm around Eddie's waist and pulled him closer. "Believe me, if I thought you were annoying in the least, I would have stopped hanging out with you way before now. Do you seriously think I'd even consider you my best friend after all these years if you annoyed me that much?"

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, knowing that Richie didn't tell him these things for the hell of it. Knowing that Richie wasn't the least bit like his mother, and he would never lie to him no matter what. Except for when he was out buying engagement rings and shit.

Eddie smiled and muttered, "Well, _you're_ annoying and I don't know why I put up with you."

"You love me," Richie said smugly.

"Fuck off."

This only made Richie grin even more, and he laid several kisses along Eddie's jaw. "You know, I told Ben and Bev that you telling me to 'fuck off' is just part of our relationship. It's when you stop saying shit like that that it means we're in trouble. So feel free to keep telling me that."

"No problem. Fuck off."

Richie giggled before capturing Eddie's lips in a kiss, but Eddie quickly broke it.

"You know," Eddie said around a heavy sigh, "I should call Myra and let her know I'm coming to pick up my shit either today or tomorrow."

Richie grumbled and frowned. "I hate when you talk to her. She always gets you so worked up."

"Well, she needs to be warned," Eddie said. "I can't just show up on the doorstep, because all hell will break loose."

"All hell breaks loose when you talk to her."

"I know," Eddie said around a groan, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "But it'll be even worse in person, especially if I _don't_ let her know we're coming. That woman hates surprises. But it's just going to be a quick call. I'm going to call, and tell her, and hang up. That's it. I'll be fine."

"If she _lets_ you hang up."

"I'll tell her we're getting ready to leave and I can't talk," Eddie said. "Bitch will have to deal with it."

"Are you going to tell her about our engagement?" Richie asked, nuzzling against Eddie's neck again.

Eddie rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're horrible."

"Speaking of which," Richie said, pulling away so that he could meet Eddie's gaze, "thank you for not letting me post an announcement to Twitter last night. It seemed like such a great idea in the spur of the moment, but you were right. Now that I stop and think about it, it only would have caused a shit storm."

"I just didn't think you'd want to come out that way," Eddie said. Despite the gravity of the situation, Eddie found himself smiling. "No matter how excited you are to announce that I'm your fiancé."

"I am," Richie said, returning Eddie's smile. A moment later, however, Richie's expression turned serious, his lips twitching down and his eyebrows knitting together. "But I need to ask you something."

"You already did. I said yes, remember?"

"I don't mean that," Richie told him. "I…I need to ask you something serious."

Eddie shifted on his pillow, scooting away from Richie so that he could take in Richie's entire expression. "About what?"

"I probably should have brought this up sooner," Richie admitted. He leaned up and propped his head up with his hand. "But I honestly didn't even start thinking about it until last night."

"Brought what up?" Eddie asked, searching Richie's eyes. Eddie swallowed the lump that had suddenly sprung to life in his throat, trying to keep himself calm. "What? Do you have a crazy wife too?" he asked, desperate to break some of the tension that had settled into the room.

"I didn't have anyone," Richie said. "Not before coming back to Derry. Just…a housekeeper and a fancy apartment."

Eddie ran his hand up Richie's arm, gently rubbing his fingers over Richie's bicep, just under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Richie didn't often speak about his life before returning to their hometown, but when he did, it was always with a deep sadness in his voice. A profound sense of regret that Eddie never wanted to dig into too deeply.

"You know you can tell me anything," Eddie told him.

"I know," Richie said, taking a deep breath. "I just…you're going to be okay with it once I do come out, right?"

Eddie blinked in confusion, because he genuinely had no idea what Richie was even asking. "What do you mean? I…I want you to come out when it's right for _you_. You don't…have to worry about me."

"But I do," Richie said, absently tracing patterns with his fingers across Eddie's chest. Across where the bandages and scar lay just below his t-shirt. "I'm…kind of famous. It's not going to just be about me, you know. It's going to be about if I'm seeing anyone and who that might be." Richie huffed out a breath and bit at his bottom lip in irritation. "Your name is going to get thrown around at some point, and…the paparazzi have been known to camp outside my apartment and follow me when I go get fucking coffee and shit. It doesn't happen often, just on slow news days, but it does happen, and it's fucked up. That people care what a loser like me does with my boring ass day. And what I get in my fucking coffee."

"Three sugars," Eddie said. "Not that exciting."

"My point exactly," Richie replied, "but…are you ready for them to start doing the same thing to you? Because I imagine it's going to blow up for a while after I do come out."

"Rich," Eddie said earnestly, "don't think I haven't thought about those things already. Believe me, I considered all of that and more the moment we came back to Derry and I figured out you were that comedian I watched on YouTube. I still initiated this regardless."

Richie smiled again, one that genuinely reached his eyes, and if Eddie wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw the faintest glimmer of tears in his eyes as well.

"Were you sitting in the Jade of the Orient and going over all of this in your mind?" Richie asked, and it looked like he was straining to contain a giggle. "About what it would be like to date me, because I'm a famous comedian?"

"Yeah," Eddie admitted. "I was. I knew that it would make me famous too by default, and…I still wanted it. I still want you. The only person in my life who doesn't know I'm bisexual is Myra and…she's going to be pissed off regardless, knowing that I've moved on without her." He shrugged before he added, "Hopefully, I can at least get my divorce settled before any of this gets out, but…if not, we'll deal with it. I'm…honestly done trying to please other people. This is what I want and that's all that matters to me right now."

"Shit," Richie muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't even think about the fact that this would complicate your divorce. And I should have." Releasing his hold on Eddie, Richie flopped down on his back on the mattress. "Fuck. I'm sorry."

Eddie pushed himself up from the mattress and turned on his side to face Richie. He placed his hand on Richie's chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart underneath the fabric of his t-shirt. Then Eddie reached up, letting his fingers trail along the skin of Richie's neck and up to his cheek. God, he fucking loved the stubble there, the way it brushed against his fingers.

"Don't worry about it," Eddie insisted. "So she may try to sue me for more money, but…let her. I'm already leaving her the house and almost everything in it, and she can have it. I'll still have enough in savings to last me until we get to LA and I find a new job. I don't…want this to affect us or when you choose to come out, because I told you – that needs to be your decision and yours alone."

Richie nodded solemnly. "And you've made me realize that this is something I need to think about for a while before I actually do it, so your divorce may very well be over by the time anything actually happens. I need to come out to my manager first and see how that goes – if he'll want to continue to work with me or drop me."

"In which case, you'll find a new manager," Eddie said. "One that isn't a douchebag."

Frowning and squinting his eyes in thought, Richie mumbled a quick, "Yeah. I mean…I don't _think_ he'll care. He's never given me the impression that he's a bigot at all, but it's not something we've ever needed to talk about before, so who knows? And being a manager for a gay guy who wants to come out is another thing altogether."

"We'll get through it," Eddie said confidently, and he loved being the one to give Richie those kinds of assurances now. Eddie almost felt like it was always Richie taking care of him and reassuring him, but now Eddie could help him navigate through coming out and handling his career on top of it. "Whatever happens, we're in this together, right?"

"Absolutely," Richie said, smiling up at Eddie now. "And don't forget, I'm putting you up in my plush apartment free of charge, so it's not like you'll be strapped for cash, even if Myra does try taking all your money."

"God, you make me sound like a fucking sugar baby."

"Do you want to be?" Richie wiggled his eyebrows.

"Seriously, fuck off." Eddie released his hold on Richie and plopped down on his back again. "Are you going to go get breakfast or what?" he asking, giving Richie a sideways stare.

Undeterred, Richie turned over onto his side, wrapped an arm around Eddie's waist again, and kissed his cheek. "Yeah, I am. Are you going to call Myra?"

"Yeah, I want to get it out of the way."

"Okay, I'll give you some privacy." Richie started to pull away, but then he paused, turning back to Eddie. "I'll be right downstairs if you need me. I'll take my phone, so just shoot me a text if you want me to come back up."

Eddie nodded. "I will. And I'll be okay."

Richie pressed one last kiss to Eddie's lips before he got out of bed. Eddie watched him put on his glasses, pull on some pants and shoes, and grab his phone and the room key before heading for the door.

"I love you," Eddie said, staring up at the man he adored more than anything in the world.

"I love you," Richie replied, blowing him a kiss before leaving the room.

Eddie reached for his phone on the bedside table, taking a deep breath to calm himself before tapping Myra's name in his contacts. Just then, however, an incoming call showed up on this screen. Eddie grinned when he saw the name and immediately accepted the call.

"Hey, Bill."

"All right. What's this I hear about you getting engaged?" Bill asked, sounding smug. "The last time we talked, you were concerned that he wasn't all that serious about you." He snorted.

Despite the fact that he normally hated being proven wrong, Eddie was perfectly okay with it in this case. He laughed softly and said, "Yeah, about that – so you were right, okay?"

"Told you."

Even though Eddie didn't mind being proven wrong, that didn't mean he needed to be ribbed for it. "Shut the fuck up."

"I'm really happy for you," Bill said instead. "Both of you. I mean it. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Bill." Eddie paused for a moment, biting at his bottom lip. "But I'm actually glad you called, because I wanted to ask you something else. Or a couple of things actually." He almost thought Bill would make a joke, but he must have detected the suddenly concerned tone of Eddie's voice.

"Shoot."

"Well, we're all leaving today," Eddie said. "Now that I'm okay to travel, we're getting the hell out of this town once and for all, and so are Ben, and Bev, and Mike."

"Good. And don't look back."

"I didn't want to say anything Richie, because we have enough shit to worry about as it is," Eddie said, "but…you haven't forgotten anything this time, have you? Not like last time?"

"Not like last time," Bill said reassuringly. "I talked with Mike about this a bit and he seems to think it's b-because It's dead and that power died with It. I still remember all of you and everything that happened."

"Okay," Eddie said around a heavy breath, relaxing into the bed as he absorbed Bill's words. "Is it weird that…I'm sort of afraid that I'll wake up one day and forget Richie completely? That I'll find myself not in love with him anymore?" he asked. "And that scares the shit out of me, because he's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I mean…I'm sure it won't happen, because we're going to be living together, but…can you imagine waking up and seeing a stranger in your bed? What the fuck would that be like?" Eddie shivered, because it terrified him to his very core. They already lived through that once, and it wasn't something that Eddie wanted to repeat.

"No, it's not weird," Bill replied. "Because I was afraid when I first left Derry too. Afraid that I'd forget the best family I've ever had. But look – I've been gone for a good month, and I haven't forgotten any of you. You're not going to forget Richie. Promise."

Eddie found himself smiling as he said, "I'm sort of glad you left Derry first so we could see what'll happen to the rest of us. I think I'd be having a fucking panic attack right now if we were all still here and we didn't know what was going to happen to our memories."

"Glad to be your guinea pig," Bill said dryly.

Eddie snickered before he said, "And now I have a really, really important question to ask you."

"No, I don't think Richie's going to leave you at the altar."

"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope."

Eddie let out an overdramatic sigh, making sure that Bill could hear it through the phone. A moment later, though, Eddie said, "This is serious."

"What's your question?"

Eddie paused for a moment, shifting a bit in bed to try and ease some of his nervousness. Not that he thought that Bill would actually say no, but that didn't quite stop Eddie from worrying. Eddie closed his eyes, trying to calm himself before he asked, "Will you be my best man?"

A brief moment of silence passed before Bill replied, "Yeah, man. I'd be honored."

"Thanks, Bill."

"No problem. And tell Richie congratulations and that I'm happy for him too, okay?"

"I will."

When Eddie hung up with Bill a moment later, it left him feeling even more relaxed and happy than he had before. He almost didn't want to ruin the moment by calling Myra, but it had to be done. Gritting his teeth, Eddie quickly brought up Myra's name in his contacts again before he could lose his nerve.

"Eddie-kins," Myra cooed in that grossly annoying sing-song voice of hers. Like they hadn't been screaming at each other the last time they had talked. Like they were still on anything resembling good terms.

"Don't call me that, Myra," Eddie snapped, but a moment later, he grimaced. This conversation wasn't going to go over well if he was already annoyed with her. Trying desperately to reel his frustration back in, he said, "Listen…I'm heading back to New York today, so if it's okay with you, I'd like to come pick up a few things either later today or tomorrow. It depends what time I get into town."

Myra didn't reply at first, like she was weighing her various options here. Finally, she asked, "You're coming home then?"

"Not home," Eddie replied, trying his best to keep his tone gentle and civil. "I'm just stopping there to pick up a few things. That's all."

Myra was quiet again before she asked, "Can we talk when you do?"

Eddie suppressed the urge to tell her that they didn't have anything to talk about, because Eddie didn't have any romantic feelings for her whatsoever, and that he was divorcing her ass whether she liked it or not. Instead he said, "I won't be there very long, but…we can talk." Eddie rubbed his eyes with his free hand, because he didn't want to give her false hope, but he didn't want a furious Myra greeting him when he got there either. He felt like he was walking a tightrope, trying desperately not to fall to either side.

"About us?"

Eddie wanted to tell her that there was no 'us' to speak of, that it was now Eddie and Richie just like it always had been. Closing his eyes and shoving those thoughts and words to the back of his mind, he promised, "We'll talk, Myra, okay?"

"Okay," Myra said, but her voice was uncertain, like she didn't quite know what she was agreeing to. "Will…will you text me before you get here?"

"I'll text you."

"Okay," Myra repeated before she added, "I can't wait to see you."

Eddie had to bite back a snide laugh, because he definitely wasn't the same Eddie that had gotten that call from Mike nearly two months ago. He had fucking scars up the ass and had resorted to growing a beard in order to hide one of them. Myra detested facial hair, insisting that it was 'dirty', so Eddie had always stayed clean-shaven while he was with her. Not to mention, if Myra only knew what now lay beneath his shirt, she'd have a fit, demanding to know what trouble he'd gotten himself into while he had been gone.

Then there was the little matter that Eddie felt like he had grown by leaps and bounds since he'd been away from her controlling behavior. It had been ages since he had touched his inhaler, and a part of him was considering leaving it behind in Derry along with the fucking clown and all the bad memories. On top of that, Eddie was finally standing up for himself and going after what he wanted (which had always been Richie), and he was through letting anyone stand in his way.

"Myra," Eddie said, trying to keep his voice as soft as he could, "you know this isn't going to be a reconciliation or anything, right? I'm…just coming to pick up some of my things. That's all." He really didn't want to piss her off by bursting her bubble, but he didn't want to give her any false hope either.

"But we'll talk."

"We'll talk," Eddie said shortly. "Goodbye, Myra."

Eddie quickly ended the call before she could say anything else, because he wasn't going to entertain her trying to weasel her way back into his life. He recognized this tactic from Myra, and he had almost seen it coming a mile away. The last time they had talked had turned into a pretty heated argument, and that hadn't gone anywhere. Now that Myra knew that screaming orders and threats at him wouldn't work, she was resorting to kindness in order to try and reel him back in. It happened every time they had an argument in their marriage, and Eddie would usually crumble underneath her pleas. But not this time.

Not this time.

Eddie took a deep breath before getting up and going to join the others.

* * *

Two hours later, Richie and Eddie had the former's car packed and they were gathered in the front hall of the townhouse, saying their last goodbyes to Ben, Bev, and Mike.

Beverly's gaze was directed down at her cell phone as she said, "I'm putting everyone in a group chat so we can stay in touch more easily."

"Good," Eddie said, "because I think Bill was feeling a little out of the loop with this whole engagement thing."

Beverly shoved her phone into her pocket a moment later before hugging Eddie tightly. "I'm so happy for you," she said before turning to Richie and squeezing him as well. When she pulled away, she looked up at Richie and added, "You know you can call us if you need anything else, right?"

"Yeah," Richie said, and he really, truly meant it. For the very first time in his life, he felt entirely supported for who he was, and the fact that he didn't have to hide certain aspects of himself from his friends any longer was exhilarating. Ben, Bev, and Mike had all helped him propose to Eddie in one way or another, and none of them (including Bill) had batted an eye at the revelation that Richie and Eddie had had been in love with each other forever. At the fact that Richie was gay.

Every time Richie thought about it, it almost felt like his heart was swelling inside his chest somehow, and it sent waves of emotions and tears through him.

Sniffling slightly and attempting to push the feeling down, Richie said, "Thank you guys so much. For putting up with my annoying ass, because I know it's a lot."

"At least they get to leave you behind now," Eddie told him. "I have to put up with you all the way back to fucking LA in a _car_. It's going to be a nightmare. Why did I ever agree to this?"

"Not to mention the rest of your life, Eds," Richie said, wrapping at arm around Eddie's shoulders and kissing him. "You're stuck with me now."

"Fuck off," Eddie muttered, pushing gently at Richie's chest. Eddie's eyebrows were knit together in a frown, but Richie didn't miss the tiny little curve at the very corner of his lips.

It then occurred to Richie that he didn't even have to _think_ about censoring himself around his friends anymore, that he had just kissed Eddie in front of them without the slightest hint of fear, and that made him suddenly want to cry again. There had been a time when he would have died rather than admit his feelings, much less act on them. There had been a time when just the thought of it made his palms sweat and his heart race. But now he could kiss Eddie in front of their friends, and it was okay. More than okay, actually, because everyone was thrilled for them.

It was so much more than Richie could have ever imagined.

Eddie was embracing Mike, so Richie turned to Ben next, hugging him tightly. "Thank you for letting me be myself," Richie whispered.

"Don't mention it," Ben replied, clapping him firmly on the back. "And I'm here if you ever need anything else – if you're stressed, or worried about anything, or just need to talk, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

Richie could only nod at this, throat suddenly feeling too tight to speak. When they released each other, Richie turned to Mike next. They hugged as Richie told him, "Thank you for being my alibi while I got an engagement ring for this asshole."

"Hey!" Eddie cried. He pulled out of his own hug with Ben before he said, "I can still break off the engagement, you know. Don't think I won't." He held up his hand in front of him, waving it up and down with his words.

Richie snorted. "Yeah, right."

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. "Shut up."

"Um…you guys don't have any sharp objects in the car, do you?" Ben asked uncertainly, his eyes going back and forth between Richie and Eddie. "Because Eddie may very well murder you before you get back to LA. Don't forget, Eddie has a thing for stabbing people. And fucking space clowns."

"Damn right," Eddie muttered. "Don't think I won't do that either."

"Please don't make us clean up and hide anymore dead bodies," Mike pleaded. "Once was enough."

Richie honestly should have known that his friends wouldn't give a shit about his sexuality after they had told him they'd gotten rid of Henry Bowers's body. In the end, Bill, Bev, Ben, and Mike had decided that the best course of action would be to bury Henry in the rubble of the house on Neibolt Street. If anyone asked, they could easily say that Bowers followed them there (which wouldn't be that far from the truth) and ended up getting caught in the collapsing house like they almost all were. Like Eddie had almost succumbed to.

As it turned out, nobody seemed to notice or care that a house in their town had imploded, as was usually the case in Derry. On the other hand, even if they did notice, they probably weren't that concerned about a crack house being destroyed. The rubble had still been left to decay and sink farther into the ground, and no one seemed to miss it. Sometimes, having a murderous space clown in one's town had its advantages.

They had _gotten rid of a dead body for him without even being asked to_, and Richie was afraid of them hating him for being _gay_? Richie felt a little bit ridiculous when he thought back on it, but that feeling was quickly replaced with the knowledge that his friends would do fucking _anything_ for him, and that meant accepting him exactly the way he was. How had he ever even gotten such amazing friends? And an amazing fiancé on top of that?

The five of them made their way out of the townhouse and down the steps to their cars parked just across the street.

"Let us know when you guys get to LA and Florida," Beverly called to them, standing next to the driver's side door of the car that she and Ben were taking. She had her hand up to her forehead, shading her eyes from the bright autumn sunshine. "I'll be like a worried mother until I know you guys are all safe."

If Richie wasn't mistaken, he thought he heard the faintest quiver in her voice. Not that he blamed her, because as ready as he was to leave this shithole behind, he knew he was going to miss his friends severely. He'd miss waking up and having breakfast with Ben and Bev every morning. He'd miss being able to text Mike and ask him to cover for him while he got a surprise for Eddie. Just like he had missed Bill for the last month.

He'd miss them all, but he wouldn't miss Eddie. He'd never miss Eddie again, because the love of his life was coming back to LA with him and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. And Richie was the fucking luckiest man on the face of the earth.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: No, muse. I don't need to write a story about Eddie waking up and thinking Richie is a stranger lying next to him. I don't._


	20. Chapter 20: Myra

_Author's note: So my muse made me start an amnesia story after all, but I put Richie on the receiving end of it instead of Eddie. The first three chapters of that are up on my account if you would like to read it, but I needed to come back to this poor story before it got too neglected. I apologize for taking a month away from this story as a result, but have a longer chapter to make up for it._

_And Myra still does not get any easier to write._

**Brave  
**Chapter 20 – Myra

Eddie spent most of the morning in the car with his nose in one of his books. He and Richie drove mostly in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the upcoming changes they would soon be facing. After they stopped for lunch, Eddie ended up reclining his seat in the car and dozing off for the rest of their drive to New York.

Richie's eyes kept going over to Eddie as he steered the car down the highway, to the way Eddie's head lolled against his shoulder, to the way his hand rested on his thigh. Every time the fire opal on Eddie's finger caught the sunlight just right, Richie would end up grinning like a maniac. Richie reached out more than once, laying his hand over Eddie's, reveling in the way the ring sat comfortably on Eddie's finger.

The love of Richie's life _wanted to marry him_, and the thought alone was almost like a drug, making Richie feel like he was on top of the world. But of course, as with all things, what went up must come down.

Eddie had made a reservation at a hotel not far from his house in New York before they left Derry, and when Richie turned off his car in the hotel parking lot, he reached out to shake Eddie awake.

"Eds?" Richie asked quietly, gently squeezing his arm. "We're here."

Eddie jerked awake, immediately reaching up to wipe at the line of drool that had collected on his cheek. This made Richie smile, imagining Eddie waking up like that every morning for the rest of their lives, trying to remove all evidence that he had done anything as human as _drool_.

Fucking adorable idiot.

"Jesus," Eddie muttered, rubbing at his eyes before glancing around the parking lot of the hotel. "I didn't plan on sleeping so long. Sorry."

"Don't be," Richie replied. He let his hand drop from Eddie's arm and trailed it down along his chest. "All this healing takes a lot out of you. You need your rest."

Eddie shook his head. "I still should have helped you drive at least part of the way."

"It's fine," Richie told him, removing his keys from the ignition and releasing his seatbelt. "If you didn't know yet, I'm a bit overprotective of my car, and I don't let just anyone drive it. Especially someone with anger issues and who's been known to have had accidents in the past." Richie pushed his door open and got out.

"Hey! Fuck you!" Eddie cried, hurrying to remove his seatbelt and follow suit. "I've only had one accident in my life and that was when Mike called me! I could hardly be held responsible for _that_." Eddie frowned deeply as he watched Richie open the trunk of the car. "Fuck that stupid space clown for ruining my safe driving record and for making my insurance go up for something that _wasn't my fault_!"

"You ran a red light, dude," Richie said, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and pulling out one of Eddie's suitcases with the other hand.

"_Not my fault_!" Eddie snapped. "I mean, you threw up when Mike called you. We were both kind of a mess when we were reminded of…everything."

Richie set Eddie's larger suitcase down on the ground before reaching back into the trunk for Eddie's smaller suitcase and toiletry bag. He set the smaller suitcase on the ground next to its mate, but then gripped the toiletry bag in both hands, squeezing the handle tightly. He stared down at it long and hard, desperately wanting to be honest with Eddie, but feeling sick all over again at the thought of just talking about it.

"What?" Eddie asked quietly. He laid a soft hand on Richie's arm, running his thumb over the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "What's wrong?"

Richie took and held a deep breath before letting it out slowly, trying to urge his stomach to settle down. "That's not all I did."

"What do you mean?" That frown line had settled in between Eddie's eyebrows again and he was watching Richie intently. When he still didn't reply, Eddie added, "Hey. You know you can tell me anything."

"I know," Richie said around a sigh. He turned and leaned back against the car's taillight, still staring down at Eddie's bag in his hands. "I threw up and _then_ I fucking bombed on stage. I left out that little part. I didn't even make it through my first joke before…my mind went blank." Richie finally looked up into Eddie's eyes and said, "Or rather it was consumed by thoughts of Pennywise, and Bowers, and…you. I couldn't believe I forgot _you_. And I was booed off the stage, and then I threw up _again_. So you see why I haven't exactly been all that thrilled with the possibility of returning to work." He hung his head again and said, "Because my last show was a fucking disaster and I made a fool out of myself."

Eddie took a step closer, reaching out for Richie's arm once again. "Did anything like that ever happen before?"

Richie shook his head. "Not that bad. I mean, I fucked up jokes and punchlines before, but I never just went blank on an entire _routine_. And I never got booed off the stage before. I know the longer I stay away, the worse it's going to be when I do go back, but…I'm doing it again – running away. Like I've done with everything my entire life. When we were still in Derry, it was…far enough away that I could put it out of my mind, but now…the closer we get to LA, the more I realize that I'm going to have to confront it again at some point. I can't keep putting it off like I have been doing, and…that scares me. Derry was…safe. As fucked up as that sounds. I mean, I'm glad to be out of there once and for all. Don't get me wrong, but…" He broke off and shook his head, not even sure what he was trying to say anymore.

"Oh, Rich," Eddie murmured, running his hand up Richie's arm to his shoulder. "You'll get back into it. One major fuck up isn't going to define your entire career."

"But it isn't just the fuck up itself," Richie told him. "Jason put out a statement that I was dealing with one friend's death and another friend's near-death, but…I told you, rumors fly. People seem to be under the impression that I went on a drug- and/or alcohol-fueled bender and I had to check myself into rehab." Richie broke off into a snort and stared up at the sky, like it might have all the answers about putting his career back together and publicly coming out. "Like losing one friend and almost losing another in the span of a few days isn't enough. And if I can't even deal with this, how the hell am I going to fucking _come out_?"

Richie was staring down at the ground now, feeling all of his fears come bubbling to the surface again now that they were closer to LA. As much as he hated being stuck in Derry while Eddie began his recovery, it had still been a nice getaway of sorts. It had been nice living in domestic bliss with Eddie and pretending that he didn't have a career he had put on hold waiting for him back in California.

"Richie, look at me," Eddie said firmly, his hand going up to Richie's cheek next. He waited for Richie to meet his eyes before he said, "You keep talking about how brave _I_ am, but…you're brave too, you know."

Richie scoffed at him, because he had done nothing but run away from his problems and his insecurities for his entire life. He kicked at a small pebble in the parking lot with the toe of his shoe, watching it tumble away. "What have I ever done that's brave?"

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie asked in exasperation. "You fought It. _Twice_. Even when you were just as scared to death as we all were. And when It had Bill, and he told us all to leave and save ourselves, you were the first one to step up and say 'let's kill this fucking clown.' You remember that?"

Still staring at where the pebble had landed several feet away, Richie gave him a small nod, unable to meet his eyes again.

"Remember when you wouldn't leave me down in the sewers, even to save yourself?" Eddie asked next.

"That was mostly because I couldn't bear the thought of you being down there forever. Of going through the rest of my life without you after I'd just gotten you back."

"Putting others' safety before your own – no matter your reasons for doing so – _is_ being brave," Eddie said firmly. "Stop making excuses for yourself."

Frowning deeply, Richie kept staring down at the ground, at that poor defenseless little pebble he had kicked into oblivion.

"Why was it brave when I stabbed Pennywise?" Eddie asked, still trying to get through to Richie. "Why was it brave when I stabbed Bowers? But when you do something brave, it's suddenly not good enough?"

"'Cause we're our own harshest critics," Richie answered immediately, because that was one he knew well. "When I have an okay night on stage, everyone else will be telling me I did fine, but I know it sucked. I know I could have been so much better – delivered the punchlines better and been smoother with some of my deliveries."

"This isn't a comedy act I'm talking about," Eddie argued. "This is real life. But while we're at it, I think going out on stage is pretty brave too, because I'd be having panic attacks up the ass if I had that many people watching me."

"When I start writing my own material, yeah," Richie agreed. "At least before, I could try and tell myself that it partially failed because it was someone else's shitty jokes, and I did the best with what I had."

Eddie let out a heavy breath and said, "Listen to me for a minute, okay? Because I don't know how many more ways I can say it. _You are brave_. If you want more examples – who killed Bowers with a fucking axe to save Mike?"

Biting his lip, Richie realized that Eddie had turned the tables and was going to make him play along with this just like Richie had done to him in the sewer. "Me," Richie said quietly. "Even though I puked again after-"

Eddie pressed a finger against Richie's lips, silencing him. "That's not what I asked. Stop adding addendums to everything." He paused for a moment to make sure he had Richie's full attention. "Who came out to the rest of the Losers even though you were scared to death of doing so?"

Hesitating just a moment, Richie said, "Me." He desperately tried to contain his protests, but he couldn't. "Even though they were our friends-"

"No arguments," Eddie cut him off. "Just answer the questions." Eddie paused again, and Richie could see him swallowing hard. "Who tried to single-handedly protect me from those assholes we met on the Kissing Bridge?"

Even now, Richie desperately wanted to disagree with Eddie, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because everything Eddie said was true. Richie had been scared to death that day on the Kissing Bridge, but he would have done anything to protect Eddie, even if it meant getting himself hurt in the process.

That _was_ bravery, wasn't it?

"_Me_," Richie said solemnly.

"And who proposed to me last night even though he was scared to death of the answer?" Eddie asked, his eyes dancing with pride. He held up his left hand, using his thumb to press against his ring, letting the late afternoon sunshine reflect off the opal.

Still, Richie wanted to protest, because in the end, he and Eddie had already talked about marriage, so it wasn't _that_ scary. Even though it was and Richie knew it. He reminded himself of the small freak out he'd had in Ben and Bev's room just mere hours before.

Richie took Eddie's hand in his, rubbing his own thumb across the ring. "Me," Richie said, much more quietly than before.

"Yeah," Eddie said simply. "I'm your fiancé now because you had the courage to ask me. Because you were brave enough to go after what you wanted." Eddie's bottom lip quivered before he added, "Me."

"You," Richie replied. He leaned forward and placed a kiss to the ring on Eddie's finger, a smile overtaking his face as he did so.

When they let their clasped hands fall to hang lazily between them, Eddie asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me you felt like this?"

Richie shrugged, suddenly not even sure if he should have brought it up after all, even though Eddie's reassurances did help a little bit. He muttered a quick, "I don't know," even though he was pretty sure he did. It was because it was easier to downplay his insecurities and pretend like everything was okay. Like he had done for his entire life.

"I wish you'd talk to me more about this," Eddie said, talking a step closer to Richie. "You don't always have to pretend to be the strong one, you know. I…I know I'm a fucking disaster, but I never meant for you to feel like you couldn't put this on me."

"You're not a disaster, and it was never about that," Richie quickly said, because the last thing he wanted was for Eddie to feel like he was even more of a burden. "I just…have an image to maintain, I guess. And it's force of habit by now, too. I told you, I've done nothing but lie about who I am and run from…everything."

"You don't have to do that anymore," Eddie replied. "No more secrets, right? I know there's still certain parts of yourself that will remain hidden from the general public until you're ready to come out, but…this is _me_." He shook his head, meeting Richie's gaze steadily. "You don't have to hide anything from me, and I don't want you to. If you're having insecurities about _anything_, please come tell me. It's not just a one-way street. I don't want to be the only one in this relationship that needs a crutch every now and again."

Richie bowed his head, staring long at hard at their hands still gripping each other. "I know," he whispered.

"And Rich?" Eddie asked. "I told you this morning, we're going to get through all of this, okay? I know you're scared about going back to work after this, and coming out publicly, and starting to write your own material, but…we're in this together." He brought their hands up between them, still clasped together. "This ring _means_ something. It's not just for show."

Richie tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, but it remained there, unmoving. In the end, Richie only replied by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Eddie's lips. Just like when they had been in the parking lot at Eddie's doctor's office, Richie knew that anyone could possibly see them, but he still couldn't bring himself to care.

Eddie fisted his free hand in the front of Richie's sweatshirt, pulling him slightly closer as he deepened the kiss. When they broke apart, however, they stood like that, hands gripped tightly around each other, Eddie still holding onto Richie's hoodie, as if for dear life.

After a moment, Richie cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. "So, we're a little late for the courthouse, so the divorce filing will have to wait until tomorrow, but did you want to swing by Myra's tonight or not?"

Expelling a sharp breath, it was Eddie's turn to stare down at the ground. "Yeah. Not that I really want to see her, but on the other hand, I want to get this shit show out of the way."

"Okay," Richie replied. "Why don't we get checked in, get something to eat, and you can text her."

"I can't wait," Eddie muttered, stooping down to pick up his smaller suitcase.

"Put that the fuck down!" Richie scolded, immediately reaching to take the suitcase out of Eddie's grip. "The doctor specifically said no heavy lifting!"

"It's not that heavy!"

"Here," Richie said, holding Eddie's toiletry bag out for him instead. "Take this one. It's the lightest."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Rich. I'm not helpless."

"Shut up," Richie said, picking up both of Eddie's suitcases, one in each hand, his own duffle bag still slung over his shoulder. "We're going to have more lifting to do at Myra's, moving all your shit out, and I don't want to hear any arguments. Please let me do this so I don't have to worry about you splitting your scar open again, okay? When you're fully healed and you get the all clear, you can lift heavy shit all you want."

A smile was playing around Eddie's lips as he whispered, "Okay," before following Richie inside.

* * *

An hour later, Eddie held a warm cup of coffee in his hands as he directed Richie through the streets towards what used to be his home. Used to be, but wasn't any longer.

"I can't believe you're drinking coffee," Richie said. "You're already nervous enough about seeing Myra again."

"It's comforting," Eddie said absently, squeezing the to-go cup between his fingers, enjoying the warmth of it against his skin. He watched the passing houses out his window, and a moment later, he asked, "Is it weird that nothing's changed?" He looked at Richie before he continued, "I mean, I know I haven't been gone that long in the grand scheme of things, but…it _feels_ longer." Eddie turned to stare out his window again. "So much has changed for me, you know? The neighborhood feels like it should be different too."

"Kind of like Derry," Richie responded, keeping his eyes on the tree-lined street in front of him. "We were gone so long and so much had changed for us, but it's still the same old shitty town it always was."

"And it probably always will be." A few moments later, Eddie gestured towards the intersection up ahead. "Turn right here. It's the one all the way at the end of the block on the right. The blue one."

Eddie watched the falling autumn leaves as they cascaded through the air, the crispy browns, and golds, and oranges fluttering through the air to lay on the street. The sky had darkened considerably since they had arrived in New York, and it now appeared to be threatening rain. There was nothing quite like an autumn thundershower and the smells that the cooling breeze would bring – dying leaves and the impending scent of winter.

If there was one thing Eddie would miss about living in the east, it would be the changing seasons. But the west had Richie, which sort of negated everything else.

"Fuck, Eds," Richie said, pulling Eddie from his reverie as he stopped his car at the curb. "Are you sure you want to leave this?" Richie gestured out Eddie's window at the sprawling yard and sizeable ranch house, from its two-car garage to the now dormant flower beds outlined with stones. "It's nice."

"It was," Eddie replied, staring wistfully out the window at his former home. He sighed and added, "It hasn't been for a long time now." He stared down into his lap, at the new ring on his finger. "So many bad things happened here and…it's just not home anymore."

"Yeah," Richie agreed quietly just before reaching out and taking Eddie's left hand in his. "Maybe I should take this," he said, softly gripping Eddie's ring with his other hand.

"Rich," Eddie protested, pulling back his hand like he'd been burnt. He curled his hand into a fist, pulling it against his chest protectively. He could feel his face pulling into a pout, and he probably looked like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken away, but he didn't care. The ring had only been on his finger for about twenty-four hours now, but it was _his_. He loved the weight of it there, the reminder that it was on his finger, because Richie wanted _him_ and no one else.

"Just for now," Richie explained, his expression softening. "I'll give it back when we leave, because I doubt you want to explain to Myra why you're wearing that rather than your wedding ring." Richie raised his eyebrows, staring at Eddie's ring.

Eddie let out a soft breath, because he knew that Richie was right. As much as he didn't want to relinquish his hold on it, he slowly lowered his hand from his chest and unclenched his fist. "Yeah," he whispered.

As Richie gently removed it from Eddie's finger, he said, "I'll keep it safe, and I'll give it back. Promise."

The ring was too small for Richie's ring finger, so he slipped it onto his pinky where it fit comfortably, and something about seeing it there sent warm tingles up and down Eddie's spine.

"Ready?" Richie asked next, removing his key from the ignition and reaching for his door handle.

"Fuck no," Eddie replied, setting his coffee in the cup holder and opening his own door. "I actually can't believe that Myra didn't come running out the moment we pulled up." He glanced up at the house where there didn't seem to be any sign of movement at all. "She's probably waiting behind the door with a fucking axe."

"Way too much true crime, Eds," Richie said, falling into step beside Eddie as they made their way up the sidewalk. "You did tell her we were coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah. She said she'd be waiting."

"So um…did you tell her that you were bringing that crass comedian you liked to watch on YouTube?" Richie asked around a grin. "Because I could have _so_ much fun with that."

Eddie snorted as they reached the top of the three steps to the porch. Eddie reached for the doorbell and said, "Again, fuck no. I have no idea if she'll recognize you or not, but if that's what you want to tell her…" He trailed off, waving his arm at Richie.

"Hm," Richie hummed just as they heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. "Maybe it's better if I don't. Especially if we're trying to keep things on the downlow."

Eddie found himself smiling as he heard the lock clicking open in the door. "That's not what you said in the parking lots of the hotel and doctor's office."

A moment later, the door swung open to reveal Myra, and Eddie suddenly wanted to run back to the car and never come back. She had her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrowed at both Eddie and his companion.

Swallowing hard, Eddie greeted, "Myra."

She stared at him long and hard like she didn't quite recognize him. She looked at his "trashy" clothes with disdain before letting her eyes trail up to his face where her eyes about popped out of her head. "What's with the beard?" she demanded.

"Hello to you too," Eddie snapped indignantly. He brought his left hand up, scratching at his cheek, at the scar that the facial hair now helped to hide. "I'm trying something new," he said with a shrug.

"I don't like it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see Richie scowling at Myra, and Eddie only hoped that Richie wouldn't do anything to escalate the situation; Myra did that well enough on her own.

"This isn't about _you_, Myra," Eddie said. So much for not escalating the situation. "I decided to try it for myself."

And he had. As much as Richie had insisted to him that no one noticed the scar on his cheek, Eddie didn't feel nearly as self-conscious about it with his beard helping to obscure it. And it felt nice. Normally, he would have never done anything so drastic with his appearance without seeking Myra's advice first, but Richie always made him feel like it was okay to be his own boss. To do things for _himself_ and no one else. And the fact that he didn't feel like he needed Richie's permission for things like this was exhilarating; it made him feel free and like his own person rather than an extension of someone else. An extension of his mother or Myra. With Richie, Eddie never felt that way. With Richie, everything was different. Better.

Myra turned her attention to Richie next, eyeing him up and down just like she had done to Eddie moments before. Her mouth twisted into a scowl, and Eddie knew there were probably about ten things wrong with Richie that bothered her. For starters, she would call his clothes "trashy", and tell him he needed to get a haircut, and do something about his "dirty" stubble.

Even though he would never openly admit it, these were all things that Eddie found endearing about Richie. He loved curling his fingers in Richie's hair and feeling Richie's stubble underneath his fingers. Eddie even loved his poor, misguided fashion sense in a way, because it was purely _Richie_. Had been, ever since they had been children, and it was nice to know that some things never changed.

"Who are you?" Myra demanded of Richie.

"Dick," Richie said cheerfully. Richie extended his hand to Myra, but she only stared at it skeptically.

Eddie couldn't help the snort that escaped his throat, which earned him a withering stare from Myra.

"I'm Eddie's old friend from home," Richie explained. "I just came to help him collect some of his things."

Myra was still staring at Eddie when she asked, "And that's still your intention?"

Eddie contained the urge to roll his eyes, because of course that was still his intention! He hadn't just randomly shown up at her door for the hell of it!

"Yes, Myra," Eddie said instead, trying his best to rein in his anger.

Myra hesitated a moment before she stepped aside and held the door open for them. She had her free hand on her hip and didn't look the least bit thrilled about this situation, but Eddie and Richie stepped into the living room anyway.

Eddie quickly led the way down the hall towards the master bedroom with Richie trailing along behind him. Eddie was vaguely aware of Richie taking in Eddie's former home, craning his head to look at the knickknacks on the tables and shelves and the pictures lining the walls.

"Dude," Richie whispered, "this looks just like your mom's house. Except nicer."

"Shut up!" Eddie hissed back. All Eddie needed at this point was to incite Myra's anger if she overheard them comparing her to Eddie's mother.

Back in the living room, Eddie could hear Myra closing the front door before her tentative footsteps followed them back to the bedroom.

Once he reached the bedroom, Eddie wasted no time in going over to the closet where he withdrew another large suitcase and a duffle bag that he rarely ever used, because he hated the wrinkles that ended up in his clothes that were in it. He set his bags on the bed before turning to his dresser and carefully starting to remove the remaining clothes there.

"I thought you were vehemently opposed to duffle bags," Richie pointed out, prodding the bag in question.

Eddie glared at him as he set a stack of jeans inside his suitcase. "For clothes, yes, I am. They're much better suited to toiletries and the like, but sometimes you have to make do. You can put my underwear and socks in there."

"Ooh, Eddie underwear," Richie said as he picked up a pair of boxer shorts from a dresser drawer. They were printed with dogs and bones, and he held them up in front of Eddie. "Do you know what this reminds me of?"

"Don't even say it," Eddie said, picking up a stack of t-shirts next and putting those in his suitcase alongside his jeans. "I thought we left that shithole town behind us once and for all."

Richie looked down at the shorts in his hands, a wistful look on his face. "Didn't you ever want to get a dog?"

"Fuck no," Eddie muttered. "Do you have any idea the _germs_ they carry around much less their _shit_?"

He had gone to his closet and had removed the garment bags he had his suits stored in. He really wished he had a better way to transport them across the country, because they were fucking expensive, but this would have to do.

"Oh, wait, yeah!" Richie exclaimed, shoving a stack of Eddie's boxers into the duffle bag.

Richie was fucking lucky he wasn't balling up anything other than Eddie's underwear in there, or he'd have another thing coming. Thank god Eddie had the sense to not trust him with anything else _but_ underwear.

Richie had apparently been pondering the answer to Eddie's question, because he was actually fucking quiet for once. But then the spell was broken and he said, "Yeah, their shit can have coliform bacteria, right? And it can cause…shit. I mean, actual shit."

"A lot more than that, but yeah," Eddie said quietly. Truth be told, he was shocked as hell that Richie even registered half of the things he said, especially when he was rambling on about…shit. It kind of made Eddie feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"You have some awfully stylish underwear in here," Richie said, continuing to poke around in Eddie's underwear drawer. He withdrew a pair with teddy bears on them next and said, "And you make fun of my fashion sense."

"Just fucking pack them."

"Will you wear these for me sometime?"

"Shut _up_."

Eddie was still aware of the fact that Myra was in the house somewhere, and it unnerved him that she hadn't decided to join them yet. Was she just outside the bedroom door, listening to them? What if she somehow figured out that he and Richie were _together_ just from their banter? Or would she just write it off as two childhood friends ribbing each other?

Richie only grinned at him as the threw the remainder of Eddie's socks and underwear into the duffle bag. Then he picked up the stacks of garments bags filled with Eddie's suits that he had laid out. Richie carefully held them across his arms and asked, "Do you want me to take these to the car?"

"Please?" Eddie asked. "Can you lay them across the backseat? I think that's the best place for them, although I really wish we had somewhere to hang them."

"I'll get them there in once piece," Richie said, heading for the door to the bedroom. "Promise."

"Be careful with them!" Eddie called after him. "They're expensive!"

There was a moment of silence as Richie made his way down the hall, but then he turned back towards the bedroom and shouted, "So you _don't_ want them bunched up on the floor of the car is what you're saying."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie said, then he had to bite his tongue to keep from using Richie's name. He reminded himself that Myra only knew him as 'Dick' and Eddie couldn't quite bring himself to call Richie by that name (even though that was exactly what he was).

It was then Eddie became aware of the fact that Myra was now hovering in the door to the bedroom. Her arms were crossed over her chest and it looked like she had been crying; her eyes were swollen and red.

"I thought this was going to be an opportunity for us to talk," she said quietly. "Instead, you bring this loudmouth _friend_ of yours that you know I won't like."

Eddie closed his eyes against the surge of anger that coursed through him. Almost always the same sort of reaction that Myra seemed to force out of him. "For the last time, Myra, it has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you," he said as calmly as he could. "He's my _friend_ and he's here to _help_ me. You don't have to like him." He stiltedly shoved some sweatshirts into his suitcase, not even bothering to look at her.

"So that's it then," she said. Out of her corner of his eye, Eddie could tell she was staring down at his bags on the bed. "You're just going to pack your bags and leave like I mean nothing to you."

This finally managed to get Eddie's attention and he looked up at her, but then he wished he hadn't. Tears were streaming down her face and she was staring at him like she couldn't believe Eddie could do this to her. And this was why he had stayed with her for so long. This was why he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave despite how very miserable he had been. One look at her like this had been enough to crumble his resolve and force himself to stay with her to keep her happy. At least until he met Richie.

"I can't…" Eddie began, but then he stopped short. He wrung the sweatshirt he had in his hands as he adjusted his answer. He took a deep breath before he began again. "I honestly don't know what you want me to say."

"Say you love me and that you'll stay so we can try and work things out." When Eddie chanced a look up at her, her eyes were large and pleading.

Eddie couldn't bear to look at them any longer, so he closed his eyes and hung his head. "You know that's not what I'm doing here," he said simply, now compulsively attempting to flatten out the wrinkles in the sweatshirt he was currently holding.

"I love you," Myra whispered.

This caused Eddie to look up at her again, taken aback. It wasn't something he had heard from her very often, especially not in the most recent years of their marriage. Even when she always made him say it to her, he honestly couldn't remember the last time she had reciprocated. That was what their marriage had become – nothing more than Eddie performing like a fucking puppet when Myra pulled the strings.

"Maybe I'm not very good at saying it, but I do," she said.

Eddie didn't think Myra was very good at showing it either. Her idea of showing him love was to smother him and control him, just like his mother had done. Only now was Eddie realizing just how fucked up that was, especially since Richie was now opening his eyes to what healthy love was really about.

"You can't say it back though, can you?" Myra asked.

Eddie didn't reply right away, but took a moment to place his now smoothed-out sweatshirt in his suitcase along with the others. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Did you ever?"

Letting out a quiet sigh, Eddie desperately wished that he could give her an affirmative answer. Now that she was standing before him instead of screaming at him over the phone, he found himself wanting to spare her feelings like he usually did. Their marriage hadn't worked out, but that still didn't give him free rein to hurt her like he maybe wanted to sometimes. In the end, however, he couldn't lie to her.

When Eddie let silence pass for far too long, it was the only answer Myra needed. The frown on her face deepened, and Eddie thought he saw her bottom lip quiver.

"That isn't fair to you, I know," Eddie conceded. "Marrying you when I didn't was wrong. Don't think I haven't thought about that. And for me to come here with little to no explanation just to clear out my things – it's shitty. Really shitty." Eddie hung his head again, because he knew he was right. The way he and Richie had barged in here with absolutely no consideration for Myra's feelings was an awful thing to do to her. "I just can't even begin to explain to you what's happened to me since I've been gone and how much I've changed as a result. I'm not even going to try, because I don't think I can. Suffice it to say, I'm a much different person than you knew."

"You are," Myra agreed. Eddie could see her swallowing as she took a few steps closer to him. "You…you said you're happy."

For a moment, Eddie didn't want to tell her the truth. Didn't want her to think that he had truly found happiness once he had had left her. Still, she already knew the answer, and so did he.

"I am," he replied. He hesitated for a while before he added, "Happier than I've ever been."

Myra walked past him, beginning to pace the room, appearing deep in thought. Eddie watched her go, fascinated, because he wasn't sure if he had ever seen her so very contemplative during their entire marriage. At least, not where he was concerned.

When she finally stopped and turned to face him, she said, "I've been thinking. You've told me that more than once already – that you're happy – and I didn't quite want to believe it at first. I almost wanted to think you were lying, because how could you be that happy having just left me?"

"I'm not lying, Myra."

"I know," she said, nodding. "I see it now. It's hard to hide it when we're that happy, isn't it? And it's been a long time since I've seen you like this."

Eddie blinked, because he wasn't even aware he had been acting any differently than he normally did. Was it really just exuding from him like she was sort of implying it was? Perhaps, because Eddie had never felt like he did just then, with Richie wanting to marry him and have a life with him. It had almost grown to consume his entire being, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities that other people could pick up on it too.

"I'm not an idiot, you know," Myra said in response, probably due to the expression on his face.

"I never said you were."

"_He_ makes you happy, doesn't he?"

It took Eddie a moment to realize exactly what Myra had said. Never in a million years had he been expecting that, and it almost made him feel like he wasn't in his body any longer. His feet didn't even feel like they were touching the floor. His very first reaction was to deny it, but that wouldn't be fair to Myra and that wouldn't be fair to Richie. Eddie's breathing had grown heavy and he felt tears prickling at his eyes, because perhaps Myra had known him better than he ever gave her credit for.

He nodded slowly and whispered, "Yeah."

Despite the topic of conversation, Myra was smiling. It was small, demurely playing around the very corners of her lips, but it was there. "So you were being honest with me when you said there wasn't a 'she'."

"Yeah," Eddie said again. "Please believe me when I say that I was never trying to hurt you. It just…it happened." Eddie let out a soft breath, because he was in awe that he was even having this conversation with Myra. A part of him wondered if he'd wake up soon and find out that it had all been a dream. But then Eddie frowned, because what he'd said hadn't been the entire truth. "Well…it actually happened a long time before I even met you."

"Highschool sweethearts?"

Eddie laughed out loud, because this might have been the most absurd conversation he'd ever had in his life. And because nothing could be further from the truth. "Hardly," Eddie replied. "We were too dumb to admit it back then. And I'm sorry for that, because if we had, I wouldn't be hurting you like this now."

Myra stepped forward, and she raised her arms like she was going to hug him, but then she decided against it. She lowered her arms back down to her sides before she said, "Eddie, I wasn't lying when I said I love you. I know you probably doubted that a lot over the years, but it's true."

Eddie contained the urge to protest. He wanted to tell her that he never doubted her, but he supposed 'no more secrets' was no longer just a thing with Richie anymore. He let her speak instead.

"When you love someone," she said, "you want them to be happy, regardless of whether that's with you or not." She stopped, inhaling a sharp breath. Eddie thought she was about to start crying again, but she pressed her lips together, as if steeling herself. "I wish things could be different. I wish those feelings were directed at me instead, and I might always feel that way. I'm not sure. But if he's what's making you happy…" She trailed off, gesturing towards the door of the bedroom.

Eddie's eyes flickered towards the door then, searching for Richie, but he was nowhere to be found. Eddie could see all the way down the hall and to the front door, but Richie wasn't there. He couldn't quite see the car from his vantage point, but maybe Richie had decided to sit in the car for a while to give them some privacy.

"He is," Eddie said simply.

Myra only nodded. She bit at her bottom lip for a moment and then said, "I had every intention of fighting you tooth and nail on this. I still wish it didn't have to be this way, but if it's what _you_ want – if _he's_ what you want – I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to make you any more miserable than I already have."

"Myra," Eddie sighed, "it wasn't you. I just suck at making good decisions for myself." Just then, however, Eddie realized what he had said. "Not that marrying you was a _bad_ decision-"

"Yes, it was," she interrupted. "You're not supposed to marry people you don't love."

Eddie could only shake his head, still utterly stunned that he had let this get that far to begin with – that he had done something as horrible as marry someone he didn't love. And that he was having this conversation with Myra in the first place. Eddie suppressed the urge to pinch himself and said, "I'm sorry."

"Just don't make that same mistake again, okay?"

"I won't."

Myra stepped away from him, sniffling quietly. She took a moment to compose herself before she looked around the room. She motioned towards the bookshelf on the far wall and asked, "Did you want to take some of your books? They're hardly my type of reading material."

Myra ended up helping Eddie pack some of his books in relative silence, but it wasn't awkward like it normally was. It was almost amicable in a way that hadn't been true for most of their marriage.

So why did Eddie feel like shit?

* * *

Eddie was completely silent as Richie drove them back to their hotel. Eddie wouldn't even meet his eyes, instead staring out his window at the trees, houses, and cars as they passed by. He had his elbow on his door's armrest, his fist up just under his chin, and if Richie wasn't mistaken, there were tears intermittently escaping from his eyes.

Eddie's engagement ring was still on Richie's pinky finger, and Richie kept rubbing it with his thumb as he drove. Eddie hadn't asked for it back yet, and so Richie had kept it and hadn't brought it up.

At some point while they had been packing Eddie up, the skies had finally opened. Large raindrops were lazily falling from the sky, splattering across the windows as they made their way along the streets. The leaves that had fallen were now a soggy mess, laying in saturated clumps on the roads. If there was one thing Richie hated about autumn, it was fucking wet leaves. They were supposed to be crisp and crunchy, not sopping and limp.

Richie wasn't even sure why he was thinking about the damn leaves so much, except to distract himself from Eddie's current state.

They were back in their hotel room, Richie closing the door with a _click_, before he broke the awkward silence that had taken hold between them.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Richie asked him, letting his keys drop to the dresser.

Eddie wasn't facing him. Instead, he stood with his hands on his hips, staring out the sliding glass door which led to the balcony beyond. It was still raining, the sky almost black beyond, nearly blending into the wrought iron fence that marked the edge of the balcony.

"Do you think I'm a shitty husband?" Eddie finally asked without looking at him.

"What?" Richie asked, stepping a little closer to him. He still kept some semblance of distance though, not even remotely close enough to touch him. "No, I don't."

Eddie scoffed. "I married a woman I didn't love and now I fucking broke her heart." He turned to face Richie and said, "That's shitty. Don't even try to tell me that it isn't."

"She has a heart?" Richie asked in an attempt to break tension between them, but if anything, it only made things worse.

Eddie closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't. I know we've done nothing but talk shit about her this entire time, but…don't."

"Sorry," Richie sighed, because he had known before he had said it that it had been the wrong thing to say. He took a step closer, still out of arm's reach before he said, "But do I think you're a bad husband? No, I don't."

"How can you say that?" Eddie asked incredulously. "How can you still want to marry me after the mess I've made with Myra?"

"Eddie," Richie said, finally stepping close enough to Eddie to touch him. He laid his hands on his shoulders firmly, but Eddie wasn't having it.

Eddie roughly shook his shoulders, pulling out of Richie's grasp so forcefully, it almost startled Richie. Richie took a step backwards, watching as Eddie shook his head wildly.

"Don't," Eddie said again, even though Richie wasn't quite sure what Eddie was telling him not to do. Touch him, maybe? Try and convince Eddie that he wasn't the shitty person he thought he was?

It looked like Eddie was going to say something more, but he only shook his head again. He turned away from Richie, reaching for the sliding glass door to the balcony and wrenching it open. Stepping out onto the balcony, Eddie slammed the door shut before plopping down onto the green plastic chair outside. He leaned forward, burying his head in his hands.

Richie desperately wanted to go to him, to wrap his arms around Eddie and assure him that this was still what he wanted. But he didn't. He stood rooted to his spot, knowing that Eddie needed some time right now to cool down and process everything that had happened with Myra.

But just twenty-four hours ago, Eddie had accepted Richie's marriage proposal without so much as a hint of trepidation. Now, Richie stared down at the ring on his pinky finger, using his other hand to turn the band around. When he had taken the ring back from Eddie just a few hours previously, he'd had no inkling that that might be permanent.

Maybe Richie had made a mistake in proposing to Eddie so soon, and perhaps Eddie had made a mistake in accepting it. They probably should have waited and sorted things out before throwing themselves into a fucking engagement like it would magically solve everything.

It was the second time in Richie's life where he had actively pursued something he wanted (the first being his career), and now Richie knew why he always chose to run away instead.

Because sometimes, it was easier.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: I had absolutely no idea that this chapter would turn out this way, but Myra ended up surprising me._

_Anyway, time for a state of the story address! So I actually seriously considered including the next section and making that the end of the story (but don't be alarmed, because there's still tons of the story to tell, and I'm nowhere near done). The story up until this point has mostly been about Eddie – healing from his injuries, and learning to stand up for himself, and be his own person. The second half of this story is mostly going to be Richie's journey – getting back into his career, publicly coming out, and learning how to fully be himself. This could have been the perfect halfway point to divide this into two separate stories, but in the end, I had always intended for it to be a single story. Richie and Eddie are a team now, and the story felt incomplete to leave so many things hanging for Richie. So this will continue as a single story, and yes, this is seriously about the halfway point, so there's plenty more to come! If you're still here, thank you so much for sticking with me. I've always known where this story is going, but I had no idea when I started this that it would ultimately be this long, but I'm loving every minute of it. I hope you are too!_


	21. Chapter 21: Enough

**Brave  
**Chapter 21 – Enough

Eddie spent most of the evening out on the balcony, clearly not ready to discuss things with Richie just yet. Richie finally gave up on getting anything cleared up that evening and went to bed, deciding that it was probably best to let Eddie cool off until morning. Richie's dad always said things looked better in the morning anyway.

For all the good it did, because Richie fell into a rather fitful sleep. He only dozed off and on and was suddenly wide awake when he heard the glass door to the balcony sliding open. Richie pretended to be asleep, listening to Eddie putter around the room, getting ready for bed.

About twenty minutes later, the mattress dipped down behind Richie. He halfway expected Eddie to cuddle up against his back, wrapping his arm around Richie's waist, but he didn't. Eddie didn't bother to touch him at all, and he wasn't even close enough for Richie to feel any of his body heat. Richie contained the urge to turn over and curl in around Eddie, like he normally did when they slept. Instead, Richie just laid there alone in the dark, waiting for sleep to claim him.

It was the first night since Eddie had gotten out of the hospital that he and Richie hadn't slept clinging to each other tightly.

* * *

When Richie awoke the next morning, he realized that Eddie was gone. Other than Richie, the room was completely empty. Eddie wasn't in bed with him, he wasn't out on the balcony, and he wasn't in the bathroom either. Richie's heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest before he realized that Eddie's suitcases and toiletry bag were still in the room's closet.

So Eddie hadn't just up and left, but Richie was left unnerved that Eddie had gone somewhere without a word to him. Other than their first morning together at the townhouse, Richie had always made it a point to wake Eddie up before he left their room in Derry, and it bothered Richie that Eddie couldn't spare him the same consideration.

Richie reached for his phone on his bedside table and he sent Eddie a text.

_Richie (7:21 AM): Where are you?_

_Eds (7:23 AM): Out for a run. I'll be back._

Richie began to type out a response, something stupid and jokey, but then he thought better of it and deleted his message. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at his phone and desperately wishing for Eddie to return. Things were weird and strained between them like they had never been before, and Richie really didn't like it.

Nearly a half an hour later, Eddie finally returned to the room, and good god. He was wearing a pair of tiny red track shorts that immediately made Richie's breath catch in his throat. It was the first time since they were children that Richie had seen him wear those, and he wanted to say something. He wanted to tell Eddie that he couldn't just walk around like that without warning him first, but he remained silent. Richie also had the urge to push Eddie up against the wall and start kissing him like he always wanted to, but he stayed seated on his side of the bed.

Eddie was carrying two to-go cups of coffee and a small white paper takeout bag. He set them down on the dresser along with his phone and key card for the room.

"I got us bagels and coffee," Eddie said quietly. "You know, since that's a thing now, I guess."

Richie strained to come up with a response, but for perhaps the first time in his life, no words came to mind. He sat staring at Eddie, not even sure how they had gotten to this point or where they were going to go from here.

"Let me take a quick shower," Eddie said, digging a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt out of his suitcase. "And then we can eat and talk."

Richie only nodded, watching Eddie disappear into the bathroom. Still, Richie sat frozen to his spot, almost terrified to do anything else. Afraid that if he did, something about his relationship with Eddie would be broken and damaged beyond repair.

"Fuck," Eddie said when he finally got out of the bathroom. He was rubbing at his wet hair with one of the hotel's towels, at least looking markedly better than he had yesterday when they had returned from Myra's. "You have no idea how much I've missed running. I'm a bit out of shape after lying around so much for the past two months, but at least I feel better than I have. I almost felt like I was going crazy when I wasn't able to exercise."

Why was Eddie talking to him like everything was _normal_? Richie sat blinking at him, because he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to say.

"So are you going to talk to me or are you giving me the silent treatment?" Eddie asked, leaning back against the dresser and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm not…" Richie began, but he wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. Was that what he was doing – giving Eddie the silent treatment? Because they were too fucking mature for that shit and he knew it. Richie ran his hands through his hair before he said, "Are you pretending like everything's normal after last night? Because it's not."

Yeah, Richie was an expert at running away from things, but not when it came to Eddie. Not anymore. Eddie had already made him promise more than once that they would discuss everything, they would talk it out when they had a problem, and here he was, trying to sweep this under the rug. It was the first time in Richie's life that he could remember feeling genuinely irritated at Eddie, and Richie hated feeling that way, so they were going to fucking talk this through now.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Eddie muttered, "I know." Staring down at the towel draped over his arms, he said, "Myra messes with my head. You know that. It's why I needed to get away from her – because it isn't healthy the way she makes me question myself. The way she makes me question _you_." When Eddie raised his eyes to Richie again, they were swimming with unshed tears. "You've done absolutely _nothing_ to make me question your commitment to me, and that's all I've _been_ doing. And I'm _sorry_." Eddie jerked in anger, throwing his towel at the bed, where it landed on the corner.

And just like that, Richie could feel his frustration seeping away, because none of this was Eddie's fault, and he knew that. Just like when they had been children, he couldn't be angry at this beautiful man standing before him that was only trying to do the best with what he had been given – which wasn't a whole hell of a lot.

"Hey," Richie said, getting to his feet and crossing the room to Eddie. He gripped Eddie's shoulders tightly and said, "Just answer a question for me, okay?"

Eddie nodded, his teeth pressing into his lower lip.

"Do you still want this?" Richie asked. "Do you still want _me_?"

"Rich…" Eddie gasped out, his bottom lip trembling. "Of course I do. I never would have accepted your proposal if I didn't."

This made Richie smile, because at least that much was better. A part of him had been absolutely terrified when he had gotten up this morning to find Eddie nowhere in sight. He had been afraid that Eddie had just decided to up and leave him, despite everything they had already been through, and perhaps that had been where his earlier annoyance had been stemming from. He wasn't sure, but at least he now felt like things were falling back into place between him and Eddie again. Things were starting to feel okay again.

"Okay," Richie said around a relaxing breath. "Then listen to me. I want this too. I never would have proposed to you either unless I was serious. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispered. "I know you wouldn't play with my feelings like that. But I just…you honestly don't think any of this makes me a bad husband? You don't think that…I'll be a bad husband to _you_?" Eddie's eyes were on him, wide and searching.

"_No_," Richie replied. "God, fuck, no, I don't. Look, we talked about this – about why you married Myra. I know you weren't trying to purposely hurt her, but…you settled. You said so yourself. Yeah, that's a bad reason to marry someone, but I _know_ that's not the reason you're marrying me. You're marrying me, because you know what you want, and that's me. I'm the one you've been waiting for all your life."

A smile slowly spread across Eddie's features, those fucking adorable dimples shining through, even with his new facial hair obscuring them a bit. Eddie leaned forward, burying his head in Richie's chest. He brought his hands up next, laying them against the front of Richie's t-shirt.

"You are," Eddie agreed, snuggling closer against Richie.

Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie's shoulders and then tucked his other hand underneath Eddie's chin. Pulling away a little bit, Richie directed Eddie's face up towards his, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

Moaning into his mouth, Eddie curled his arms around the back of Richie's neck, pulling him down closer. "I missed you," Eddie whispered against Richie's lips.

"Why?" Richie asked, breaking the kiss. "Because we went to bed last night without cuddling?" There was a teasing tone to Richie's voice.

"Yeah," Eddie said earnestly. "I don't…I didn't like it. I…wanted to cuddle you last night when I came to bed, but I didn't think you wanted me to."

"I always want you to," Richie replied. "And I know. I didn't like it either. It just…felt wrong lying there and not touching you." He huffed out a laugh and added, "You know by now that I can't keep my hands off you when we're together, so that was honestly really fucking hard."

Eddie giggled quietly, playing lazily with the dark curls at the back of Richie's head. "Can we make another promise to each other?"

"What's that?"

"Let's…never go to bed like that again," Eddie pleaded. "If we ever have any kind of argument, or disagreement, or things just feel strained between us, I want us to talk them out first. I never want to feel like I can't touch you, and I never want to wake up feeling as far away from you as I did this morning."

"Never," Richie agree, and he suddenly dove back in again, kissing Eddie fiercely. He then suddenly stepped backwards, gently pushing Eddie back until Eddie's ass met with the edge of the dresser behind him. Richie thrust his hips forward, because Jesus. Having to refrain from touching Eddie for the last twelve hours had put him a little on edge.

"Rich?"

"Yeah?" Richie asked in between kisses, because he didn't quite have his fill of Eddie just yet.

"Can I have my ring back please?"

That immediately caused Richie to pull back, because he had almost forgotten that he still had Eddie's engagement ring on his own pinky finger. Almost.

"I thought you'd never ask," Richie said, letting go of Eddie and pulling the ring off his finger. He had almost been about to reach out for Eddie's left hand to return it to his ring finger, but then he thought better of it. "Let's do this right this time."

Richie dropped to one knee, because that was something he hadn't done the first time, and perhaps he should have. Maybe it had been bad luck not to. He held the ring up between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, staring up at Eddie.

"Marry me?" Richie asked. "Because I love you and I know you're going to be the most amazing husband in the world. One major fuck up doesn't define your entire life just like it doesn't define my entire career."

Eddie's bottom lip quivered the tiniest bit before he pressed his lips together in an attempt to quell it. When he spoke, his shaking voice betrayed his emotion. "Yes," he whimpered out.

Richie wasted no time in sliding the ring onto Eddie's finger, and truth be told, he didn't think he'd ever tire of seeing it there. Of seeing the way Eddie immediately ran his thumb along the band, as if checking to make sure that it was there.

"And you're never allowed to take it off ever again, because I think it's bad luck," Eddie said firmly, despite the fact that the tears were still evident in his voice.

"Never," Richie agreed. He was on his feet a moment later, once again pulling Eddie into his arms. Richie met his lips as he felt Eddie melt into his grip. "I love you," Richie murmured as he began trailing kisses down along Eddie's cheek towards his neck.

Eddie began pushing Richie backwards as he whispered, "I love you. So fucking much."

A moment later, Richie felt the backs of his knees meet with the edge of the bed, and he dropped down to sit on the edge of the mattress. Eddie stood over him for a moment, staring down at him with the biggest grin Richie had perhaps ever seen on his face. At the same time, however, his eyes were still glistening with tears that looked like they were about to spill over onto his cheeks at any minute. Eddie slowly crawled onto his knees on the mattress, straddling Richie's thighs and sitting down in his lap.

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist, pulling him close as Eddie grinded down against Richie. This withdrew a groan from Richie's lips, because he was still in his boxer shorts. Eddie had blue jeans on, and the stiffness of the denim was pressing insistently against the soft cotton of his own underwear.

"So did you want to eat or not?" Richie joked, because goddamn it. Eddie was going to be the death of him.

"I'm having dessert first," Eddie replied, wrapping his arms around Richie's neck. He tilted his head to the side, kissing Richie deeply and pushing his tongue up against Richie's lips.

Richie immediately parted his lips for the other man, reaching for the bottom hem of Eddie's t-shirt. Richie began pushing the fabric up, wrapping his arms around Eddie again and reaching towards the scar on his back. He was surprised to find Eddie's scar bare, covered only by the thin strips of medical tape the doctor had applied two days previously. Realizing that Eddie probably felt a bit uncomfortable asking Richie to help with his bandages this morning after everything that had happened, Richie allowed his fingers to roam up the slightly raised line of skin that ran up Eddie's back.

Eddie, however, immediately broke the kiss, pushing Richie's arms away. Gasping in a breath, Eddie leaned back, his eyes widened at Richie.

"What?" Richie asked, planting his palms firmly on the mattress like he'd been burned. His own eyes were large and his heart was thumping in his chest, although it wasn't from arousal anymore; Eddie had never pushed him away when they were making out before. "Did – did I do something wrong?"

"It's not you," Eddie began, shaking his head almost frantically. "I just…I'm not…I don't have my bandages on. I…I couldn't do it by myself after my shower. I need you to help me with them before we leave."

"Okay," Richie said carefully, not sure why that was a problem. "You know I will."

"Just…" Eddie said again, and Richie could see him swallowing several times. "I'm not really ready for you to be directly touching my scar when we make out."

Richie blinked at him, because he still didn't know why Eddie didn't want him to touch it. "I've…seen it and touched it before."

"Not in a sexual way," Eddie muttered. "It's not _sexy_, Rich. Nothing about it is _sexy_."

"I told you," Richie whispered, still keeping his hands pinned to the mattress, because he would never dare to touch Eddie in a way he didn't want. "I wanted to try and make it better for you. I thought…I thought touching it in a loving way would help."

"Just not yet," Eddie said, his eyes still wide and pleading. "Please, Rich. I'm sorry. I'm such a fucking disaster, I can't even-"

"Shhh," Richie immediately hushed him, wrapping his arms around Eddie and trying to pull him closer.

Eddie didn't budge at first, pushing back against Richie's arms, but then he slowly seemed to change his mind. He finally eased into Richie grasp again, burying his head in Richie's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Eddie apologized again.

"God, don't apologize," Richie firmly, rubbing his hands up and down the back of Eddie's t-shirt in an effort to calm him. "I told you, if I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to please tell me so I can stop. Because I would never do anything you don't want me to do. I love you and respect you too much to hurt you on purpose like that. To…treat you like…an object."

Eddie let out a sudden sob. "I think maybe you were right."

Richie tightened his arms around Eddie. "About what?"

"Any time I stood up to my mother or Myra and told them no," Eddie said, pulling away to meet Richie's eyes, "they would get mad at me. I know you're not like that, but…I don't know. I think I'm just so used to it by now, I don't know any other form of love." Eddie collapsed against Richie, wrapping his arms around his neck. "God, I'm so messed up."

"No, you're not," Richie told him, continuing to rub his hands up and down Eddie's back. "They're the ones who were messed up, because that isn't what love is. I know Myra _thinks_ she loved you, and maybe she did in her own way, but…that's a really fucked up form of love – coercing someone into complying with you. That's not what I want from you. Never has been, never will be."

Eddie only tightened his grip around Richie, keeping his head buried in his shoulder.

"You want to know why?" Richie asked quietly.

Sniffling, Eddie asked, "Why?"

Richie tilted his head back, still keeping his arms around Eddie's waist. He locked eyes with Eddie before he said, "Because you're so fucking beautiful and amazing when you stand up for yourself and do what _you_ want. I've _always_ loved you, but…this new Eds that's learning to be his own person is…god. You're making me fall so much more in love with you than I ever thought I could."

Eddie leaned his forehead against Richie's, and Richie could see his bottom lip quivering and the tears springing to life in his eyes once again. "You're amazing, Rich," Eddie whispered, his voice quivering with emotion. "I told you, you never make me feel like I'm giving too little and I fucking love you for it."

"I just want to _love_ you, Eds," Richie said sincerely. "God, I just want to love you in the way you deserve, and that's all I've ever wanted. Believe me, I wouldn't still be pursuing you after twenty-seven years if all I wanted was a good lay."

"You don't even know if I'd be a good lay," Eddie whispered, hiding his head in Richie's shoulder again.

"My point exactly."

"Fuck off."

"But no expectations, okay?" Richie asked, now rubbing his hands over Eddie's hips. "I'm not in this for sex or even just being able to feel you up. I'm in this for _you_. I just want _you_."

Eddie squeezed his arms even more tightly around Richie and tightened his legs around Richie's thighs as if he was holding on for dear life. And perhaps he was. "I want you too, Rich."

"Okay," Richie breathed, because he hated when things were off between him and Eddie. Things were once again slotting into place between them and that one missing piece of Richie was back again. "You've got me, and I'm not going anywhere. Certainly not because you're not ready for sex and definitely not because of what happened between you and Myra. None of that matters. All that matters is _us_. Just you and me, baby."

Eddie let out a small sound somewhere between a giggle and an annoyed grunt. Almost like Eddie was trying to be mad at Richie for calling him 'baby', but not quite managing it. "God," Eddie muttered, running his hands through his still shower-damp hair. "I'm sorry I'm such a fucking mess."

"Hey," Richie said, reaching up to take Eddie's cheeks in his hands. "You're not a mess. We both have issues and we're going to work through them together. Trust me?"

Eddie swallowed hard and then nodded. "More than anyone."

"Me too," Richie agreed. "And as someone told me not so very long ago, this ring means something." He reached down, taking Eddie's left hand in his. Richie brought it up, pressing a kiss to the fire opal and platinum band on Eddie's finger. Smiling, Richie glanced up into Eddie's eyes. "It's not just for show."

A moment later, Eddie returned the smile, and then he leaned forward to kiss Richie deeply. "I love you so much, Richie," Eddie said when he broke the kiss, hugging Richie again.

"I love you," Richie said, giving Eddie one last squeeze. "Like you wouldn't believe. But you want to eat now?" he asked. "Our coffee's going to get cold."

"Yeah," Eddie replied, starting to stand up from the bed. "I'll try not to have any more nervous breakdowns today." He crossed the room to grab the two cups of coffee that he had set there earlier that morning, which now seemed like eons ago.

Richie quickly followed him, wrapping his arms around Eddie from behind and kissing the back of his neck. "It's okay if you do, you know," Richie told him. "I promise I won't get mad at you and I'll help you get through it."

Eddie sighed, relaxing back into Richie's touch. He held one of the cups up by his head and said, "This would be yours. Three sugars and sweet as fuck."

Richie reached for it, leaning in closer for a quick peck on Eddie's cheek before he pulled away. "Sweet as fuck, just like me," he said before reaching for the small white bag on the dresser. "You told me that too, didn't you?" He looked back over his shoulder, grinning at Eddie.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie muttered, "Don't remind me."

"Which bagel has the scary gluten?" Richie asked, peeking into the bag.

"Fuck you," Eddie said, "and it's the one on top." Eddie had leaned back against the dresser, holding his coffee cup to his lips with both hands.

Richie knew, though. Richie knew that Eddie was doing it to hide the smile that had bloomed across his lips. Richie took a moment to stare at the way Eddie's engagement ring curled around his finger. At the way Eddie kept touching it with the fingers of his other hand, as if checking to make sure that it was still there. Checking to make sure that it hadn't somehow disappeared. Checking to make sure that he and Richie were still okay.

* * *

"God, at least that's done," Eddie said as they got back into Richie's car after leaving the courthouse. He leaned back in his seat, ran a hand through his hair, and let out a long breath. "Myra said she's not interested in contesting the divorce anymore, so I might be a single man by your birthday."

"We can get married for my present," Richie said, grinning.

He didn't mean it seriously though. Not really. Richie wanted to do things with Eddie properly, and the last thing he wanted was to rush into marriage of all things. Eddie was already stressed out enough with everything that had happened with Myra, and he wanted to give Eddie some time to grow into his own person for a while. Engagement was one thing, but Richie now thought that it was best if they took some time getting to know each other more deeply and sorting out their issues. They had all the time in the world to get married.

Eddie returned the smile at first, but then he broke Richie's gaze. Eddie turned to look out his window, back in the direction of the courthouse. He was frowning and biting at his bottom lip, watching the lines of people crossing the parking lot, going about their business.

"Are you okay?" Richie asked, laying a hand over Eddie's left one. Running his thumb over Eddie's ring.

"Yeah," Eddie replied. He stared down at his lap next, at Richie's hand over his. Eddie turned his hand over in Richie's, gripping it tightly, but his frown remained unchanged. "I just wish things didn't have to be this way. I wish I hadn't fucked up so badly in the first place."

"I know," Richie agreed quietly. "I am sorry for what I said about Myra last night. I think it was just easier for me to pretend that…she didn't have feelings. I could tell myself that we weren't really hurting anyone if I painted her to be this…heartless monster. And she proved us both wrong."

"It is better this way though," Eddie said. "That's what I have to keep telling myself. It was wrong to marry her in the first place, but it would be even more wrong to stay married to her. Maybe she's been romanticizing our relationship since I've been gone. I'm not sure, but what we had wasn't good for either of us. At least maybe how she'll have a chance to find…some kind of happiness. Like I have." His eyes flickered up to Richie's and there was a small smile playing about his lips.

Richie brought Eddie's hand up to his lips, kissing the ring on his finger. Much like trying to touch Eddie's scar in an effort to try and make it better for him, Richie felt the need to keep kissing Eddie's ring. A part of him felt maybe his kisses were helping to cement it in place, to reinforce his commitment in Eddie's mind a little bit. To let Eddie know that they would be okay.

"Can we make one other stop before we leave?" Eddie then asked, his fingers still entwined tightly with Richie's. "I…have to say goodbye to someone else."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Richie was slowly steering his car through the narrow lanes of Ocean View Cemetery. The sun had broken through the rainclouds earlier that morning, and now bright golden rays of sunlight were bursting in between the dying leaves still clinging to the trees. Every now and then, leaves would give up their grip on their branches, slowly drifting to the ground among the tombstones.

"It's up here," Eddie said, pointing out the windshield. "At the next intersection on the corner."

Pulling over at the edge of the grass, Richie asked, "When was the last time you were here?"

"When she died," Eddie said, removing his seatbelt before he opened his door.

Richie did the same, following Eddie through the grass littered with crispy fallen leaves. They crunched under their feet as they went, trekking just a short distance from where the car was parked. When they got to a small flat headstone covered in leaves, Eddie stooped down to wipe away the leaves that were obscuring it.

It revealed a simple stone that merely stated Sonia Kaspbrak's name as well as her years of birth and death. There was nothing spectacular or special about it, and there weren't any quotes or titles on the stone either like there perhaps might be for some of the others. For some of the other more revered friends and family members that had been laid to rest in the cemetery. Richie supposed Eddie had done that on purpose.

"Mother," Eddie said, standing up straight again. He took a step back so that he was standing closer to Richie and said, "I know I don't make a habit out of seeing you, and that's not about to change either. I just thought I'd come say goodbye one last time since I don't plan on coming back."

Eddie hung his head, staring down at his hands, which he was wringing together. He took a shaky breath and when he spoke again, his voice was just as unsteady. "You never met her, but you probably would have liked Myra. In fact, I know you would have."

Even from behind him, Richie could see a grimace contorting Eddie's face.

Eddie huffed out a breath of laughter before he said, "But it was just like marrying you, and it was fucking fucked up beyond belief. So I came here to tell you that I'm leaving the both of you here once and for all. I've found someone else who is the complete opposite of the both of you and…I love him more than I ever could have imagined loving anyone."

Despite the gravity of the situation, a small smile grew across Richie's lips. He reached out and laid and a comforting hand on Eddie's shoulder, gripping it firmly.

"You remember Richie, I'm sure," Eddie whispered down at the tombstone. "'That loudmouth boy' you always wished I'd ditch and find more friends like Bill instead."

"Hey, Mrs. K," Richie said, waving his other hand around obnoxiously. Because if there was any chance that Sonia was watching them right now, Richie sure as hell wanted her to remember him. Wanted her to know that he was exactly who Eddie was talking about.

Eddie let out a soft snort before he said, "So yeah." He paused for a very long time and then swallowed. "I'm bisexual and you know what? I don't need your permission for that." He crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to take a firmer stance. "I don't need your permission for anything I'm doing. Richie has asked me to marry him and I've said yes. I'm moving to LA with him and we're going to be together, and I honestly don't care whether you like it or not."

It was then that Richie realized that Eddie was crying. There were a few tears dripping down his cheeks, which he quickly wiped away, but then he drew in a sharp sob when he spoke again.

"You've fucked me up in a lot of ways," Eddie whispered unsteadily. "So much so that I'm having a really fucking hard time accepting the love that Richie has for me sometimes."

Richie let his hand drop down from Eddie's shoulder. He trailed it down Eddie's arm to his hand, which he gripped tightly. Richie once again found himself running his thumb over the ring on Eddie's finger, hoping that Eddie could tell exactly how much Richie truly did love him from the gesture alone.

Eddie suddenly shook his head and when he spoke again, his voice was a bit firmer. "And you know what? I'm not going to do that anymore." He sniffled once and then said, "I'm not going to let you fuck up my life more than you already have. I am allowed to be happy with Richie, and that's what I choose. I finally have what I've wanted since I was fucking _thirteen years old_, and I'm not going to let you take it away." He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders and adding, "I choose happiness and I choose Richie. Not you. Not anymore."

Richie hesitated, not quite sure if his touch would be welcome, but he released Eddie's hand. He wrapped his arm around Eddie's shoulders instead, pulling Eddie against him gently. Almost all at once, Eddie went. He turned, burying his head into Richie's shoulder and slumping against him. Taking this as a sign that his touch was all right, Richie brought his other hand up, hugging Eddie firmly.

"I choose you too," Richie told him, again reiterating the fact that he and Eddie were in this for the long haul. And then some.

Eddie took a deep breath, giving Richie one last tight hug. A moment later, he pulled away, staring up into Richie's eyes. "Take me home, Richie."

At first, Richie wasn't entirely sure what Eddie meant, so he asked, "To LA?"

"To LA," Eddie repeated, his sad frown slowly being replaced by a small smile. "Home."

Richie kissed him long and hard before he turned and started guiding Eddie back to this car. Eddie followed, his head still pressed into the crook of Richie's neck.

Even as Richie still knew that this wouldn't magically solve everything between them, at least things did feel different now. Eddie somehow felt calmer and more relaxed against him, like some of the tension that was always present in his back and shoulders had seeped away. Had drained out to be left at his mother's grave.

It was just Richie and Eddie now, and Richie knew somewhere deep inside that that was enough.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: It is onto LA in the next chapter and the second half of this story! As I said in my previous author's note, we'll be getting into Richie navigating getting back into his career and publicly coming out._


	22. Chapter 22: Cotton Candy Kisses

_Author's note: A super fluffy chapter before things start getting complicated for Richie. I wanted to have this chapter up last week, but chaos happened at work which cut into my writing time, but here it is finally! I hope you enjoy and I hope you're all still staying safe out there!_

**Brave  
**Part 2: California**  
**Chapter 22 – Cotton Candy Kisses

The sun was just beginning to set in the sky as Richie's car finally entered Los Angeles County on Wednesday evening. Richie immediately reached over to lay a hand on Eddie's leg as he dozed in the passenger's seat, which he had been doing for the most of their trip. Eddie was a fucking heavy sleeper, Richie was coming to find out.

"Eds," Richie said gently, squeezing Eddie's knee to rouse him. "We're home."

Now that they were actually here, a small flutter flared to life in Richie's chest. As much as they had talked about this moment over the last couple months, it had still seemed so far away in Richie's mind. He couldn't believe it was finally happening, and he had an even harder time believing that his home was going to be Eddie's home as well.

_Home_. _Their_ home.

Eddie stirred, once again swiping at the drool that had settled onto his chin before stretching. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes before stopping to look out the windshield at the setting sun before them.

"Not quite to my apartment yet," Richie said, "but we're in Los Angeles County. I thought you'd want to see some of it first. You've never been here before, have you?"

Eddie shook his head as his eyes darted around at the passing buildings, which were just beginning to light up as twilight was setting in.

"So," Richie said, as he continued to steer the car down the highway, "I know it's been a hell of a long drive. We're both tired, and I'm sure you're anxious to get settled in at home," and there was that word again, "but can I show you something first?" He glanced over at Eddie, his eyebrow raised in question.

Eddie hummed in response and nodded. "I'm the one who's been asleep for most of the trip, and you've been driving this whole time. If you're up for it, so am I."

"Okay," Richie said around a smile as he signaled to take the next turn.

"Are you telling me where we're going?" Eddie asked, taking the time to read the various street signs as they went.

"It's a surprise."

Eddie was left smiling and staring out his window. He had pressed his teeth over his lower lip, like he was trying not to smile too much and tip Richie off to the fact that he was excited as he was. At least, that was what Richie hoped he was feeling.

They drove in silence the rest of the way, but Richie's hand found its way to Eddie's thigh once again. This time, Eddie dropped his hand down on top of Richie's, letting their fingers entwine around each other tightly.

It wasn't long before Richie was pulling into a parking lot not far from the shore. The setting sun was reflecting off of the water in pinks and oranges, dissolving into a watercolor painting of colors. That, however, wasn't what had Eddie's attention. He was leaning forward and staring straight out the windshield at the thousands of twinkling lights in the distance.

"Is this…the Santa Monica Pier?" Eddie asked, glancing quickly at Richie before returning his gaze to the scene in front of him. He had started to smile again, his eyes sparkling as he watched the flickering lights before him.

Neon lights were streaming along the tracks of the rollercoaster as well as some smaller rides in the background of the pier, but that wasn't what Eddie seemed focused on. He was transfixed by the swirling pattern of lights on the Ferris wheel, flashing from red, to white, to blue before starting the cycle over again.

"Yeah," Richie said as he put the car into park and turned off the motor. He didn't say anything else for a while, but sat quietly as Eddie watched the blinking lights in the distance.

It was nearly a minute before Eddie turned to him. He leaned back more comfortably in his seat before he asked, "Why did you want me to see it?"

Richie took a deep breath before he replied, "Because." He didn't go on, because goddamn. He was really trying to be more open and honest about himself with Eddie, but now that he was actually doing so, he was starting to feel sick. He knew he didn't have to worry, because this was _Eddie_, and Eddie fucking loved and accepted him no matter what. No matter how sad and pathetic he knew he was.

It was Eddie's turn to place a comforting hand on Richie's thigh, smiling at him encouragingly. "Because why?"

The ring on Eddie's finger caught Richie's eye just then, reflecting the pinkish-orange light of the setting sun back at him. This caused Richie to smile, laying his hand over Eddie's and rubbing his thumb over the ring there.

"I come here a lot," Richie finally told. He glanced at Eddie quickly only to turn away again. He stared straight ahead at the spiraling lights of the Ferris wheel in the distance as they settled into a star pattern. "I sit here and…think about things."

When Richie didn't go on, Eddie prompted him again. "About what?"

"It's stupid," Richie told him. Gripping the steering wheel with his free hand, he tried to will away some of the tension he was feeling. The tension that sprung up from Eddie watching him, waiting for Richie to spill his guts in a way he rarely did. Pressing his head back into the seat behind him, Richie took another deep breath, watching the Ferris wheel make a few rotations.

Eddie didn't spur him on this time, just sat and watched him, gripping his hand tightly. It was like he knew exactly what Richie needed in that moment – just quiet support and patience – and that was what finally pushed Richie to admit why he had brought Eddie here.

"A lot of people bring their significant others here," Richie said absently, still staring straight ahead at the lights dancing through the windshield. Even though he knew Eddie wouldn't think any less of him for this, it was still hard to meet his gaze, hard to face the emotions that must be present on Eddie's features. "I would sit here and…watch them come and go. Watch them holding each others' hands. Watch them kissing. And feeling sorry for myself, because I never had that." He paused and swallowed hard before adding, "Didn't feel like I _could_ ever have it."

Frowning, Eddie leaned towards him, and Richie could see the festival lights reflecting in his eyes. Richie knew that Eddie got it now. Got _him, _maybe in a way that Richie didn't even quite get himself.

"Rich…did you…?" Eddie began, but then he apparently thought better of his words. He bit at his bottom lip for a moment before he said, "I mean, am I…?" He didn't go on, and Richie didn't need him to.

Richie nodded. "Yeah." He finally turned his head, fully facing Eddie now. "You're my first relationship. Ever."

"Not even…a random hookup?"

Richie shook his head. "I _couldn't_. I'm fucking _gay_. I was always too terrified that if I ever did hookup with anyone, if I ever so much as hinted at the fact that I wasn't completely straight, I'd wake up to being outed on social media and my career being over."

Eddie rubbed his free hand harshly over his face. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

This caused Richie to smile, if only a little bit. "It's not your fault."

"No, I know." Eddie hesitated before he added, "I just meant…that's why you're not exactly ready for sex either. Because you never…"

"Never," Richie cut him off softly. "I'm a fucking pathetic loser. I know it."

"That's not what I meant," Eddie said, "and you know it. I would never even think that about you, much less say it."

"Don't know why not." Richie was feeling sorry for himself now, and he wasn't sure why. He finally had Eddie, and Eddie was sitting next to him at the Santa Monica Pier where he'd always wanted to bring a significant other. He was so close to having everything he'd always wanted, and yet, being a forty-year-old virgin really messed with his mind sometimes. He was staring down at the steering wheel, almost wishing it would somehow open up and swallow him whole, because why had he ever started this conversation with Eddie in the first place?

Richie hadn't even _planned_ on opening up to Eddie like this when he'd first brought him to the pier. Richie just wanted to bring his first ever significant other to the amusement park, maybe even ride the Ferris wheel with him, but just like always, he had problems when it came to censoring himself around certain people. Especially around Eddie. Always around Eddie.

"Hey," Eddie said, leaning closer to him still. "You know I love you, right?"

Yeah, Richie knew that. He had known that ever since Eddie had pulled him down and kissed the shit out of him at the hospital. He saw the intense and loving expression on Eddie's face, in his eyes when he did it, so yes, Richie knew, even though he wasn't always entirely sure why. He nodded.

"None of that means you're pathetic or unlovable," Eddie told him. "Just like being gay doesn't mean you're unworthy of love either." Eddie reached across the console with his free hand, placing his hand on Richie's far cheek and turning his head. "Look at me."

Richie's eyes darted to the shoreline, to the water still washing up over the sand. A part of Richie wished that a tidal wave would thunder through the water, cresting up over his car, and washing them out to sea. On the other hand though, this was _Eddie_. The fucking love of his life who had just moved to LA to _be_ with him. Richie knew Eddie hadn't made that choice lightly or easily, although it sometimes seemed like he had. He had picked up and transplanted his entire life for _Richie_, so what in the hell was Richie really afraid of? Not to mention, Eddie always talked about how they needed to be honest with one another, and that was what Richie wanted too. But he was still afraid.

Just like he always was.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Richie finally met Eddie's eyes. At first, he wanted to look away, but he forced himself to hold Eddie's gaze. Tried to force away the ball of tightness that had settled somewhere down in the pit of his stomach.

Eddie smiled at him, something so small and demure, but _fuck_. Richie would reveal all his truths a million times over if Eddie kept looking at him like that.

"I actually think it's kind of sweet," Eddie whispered.

Richie frowned, because he had lost the topic of their conversation somewhere along the line. "What? Being gay?"

"No, dumbass," Eddie said, although there was absolutely no vitriol behind his words. His voice was still tender and sweet, just like his expression was. "I mean being a virgin. It's almost like…you were waiting for me."

Suddenly, Richie found himself smiling, because how did Eddie always know the right thing to say? Richie could feel the sting of tears in his eyes as he said, "I was. Even when I couldn't remember you, I think I still always knew that my soulmate was out there, and no one ever quite measured up. I only ever wanted you."

"I only ever wanted you too," Eddie replied, that small smile still playing about his lips. A moment, however, it faded as he said, "I'm just sorry I settled for Myra."

Shaking his head, Richie said, "Don't be. Even if it wasn't with me, I still wanted you to be happy. I know that's not what you found with Myra, but…I can't blame you for trying."

Eddie's smile was back, but he didn't reply just yet. He brought Richie's hand up, pressing a kiss over his fingers before he said, "I love you, Richie."

Tightening his fingers over Eddie's, Richie replied, "I love you." He paused then, biting at his lower lip as he diverted his gaze to the windshield, to the still flashing lights of the carnival rides beyond. "Wanna ride the Ferris wheel with me?"

"Now?"

"Yeah." Richie leaned his head back against the seat behind him, staring at Eddie intently. "Make my dream come true?"

"Yeah," Eddie echoed back before reaching for the handle of his car door.

All at once, there was a certain excitement about him, almost like a little kid on Christmas that Richie didn't get to see very often. Richie liked it, and he decided that it was something he wanted to see more of going forward.

Richie couldn't get his car door open fast enough, and he was quickly running to keep up with Eddie as he made a beeline across the parking lot. As soon as Richie caught up with him, he said, "Jesus. I didn't know you were so starved for carnival rides. Otherwise, we could have done this sooner."

"You know how it was with my mother," Eddie said quietly, "and then Myra. God forbid I ever do anything fun, because I might get hurt or killed. Amusement park and festival rides were _definitely_ out of the question." He rolled his eyes before adding, "Meanwhile, the risk of getting seriously injured on a fixed-site amusement park ride is about one in _sixteen million_, so I'm actually much safer on the Ferris wheel than I am in the car with you, for example." Eddie threw a glance back at Richie over his shoulder before continuing on his trek across the parking lot.

God help Richie, but he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss this beautiful, ridiculously strong man before who was finally learning to be his own person and do the things _he_ wanted to do. Not what his mother wanted, or what Myra wanted, but Eddie. In the end, Richie settled for reaching just in front of him and tucking his hand into Eddie's.

This stopped Eddie in his tracks, and he turned around to face Richie. "We're in public," Eddie said, like he had to remind Richie every time he wanted to engage in a public display of affection.

"I know," Richie said simply, shrugging.

"This isn't Derry or even New York," Eddie pointed out. "This is…this is where you _live_. Aren't…aren't you afraid of being recognized?"

Expelling a breath, Richie stared down at the pavement underneath his feet. "Terrified. But I'm even more afraid of living the rest of my life in a closet." When Richie glanced up to meet Eddie's eyes again, he said, "I just want to be able to hold my boyfriend's hand at the amusement park like a fucking normal person. And if I don't even have the courage to do that, how am I ever going to come out?"

"Your fiancé's hand," Eddie corrected him.

"My fiancé's hand," Richie repeated. He adjusted his hand inside Eddie's so that he could grip it instead and run his finger over the ring. The ring Richie didn't think he'd ever tire of reminding himself now resided on Eddie's finger.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"I am if you are."

There was that demure smile again, playing about Eddie's lips. "More than okay."

"Me too," Richie agreed.

"Okay. But if you think someone's staring too long or you just feel too uncomfortable, it's okay to let go. I won't be upset."

"I told you," Richie said, starting to lead way towards the front gates of Pacific Park, "I'll never let go."

Eddie fell into step beside him, quietly looking around at all the twinkling lights and the rides swirling to life around them.

"The great thing about this place," Richie told him as they passed through the front gates, "is that admission is completely free. You only have to pay for the rides, so I could come, and walk around, and feel sorry for myself all I wanted for free."

Eddie's hand tightened around his before he said, "You know, Rich, when I met you in the Jade of the Orient and I realized who you were, I kind of thought you were amazing."

Richie looked at him quickly before snorted. "Now you know. I'm a fucking pathetic loser."

"No, you're not," Eddie said. Even though Richie was looking straight ahead at the crowds of people around them, he could feel Eddie's eyes on him. "You moved to LA and pursued your _dreams_. I mean, look at where you live!" Eddie gestured around them, at the flashing lights, the groups of people, and the slowly disappearing orange ball of sun setting the ocean on fire beyond. "I…I kind of think it's amazing. You're…a man of the world and I never got out from underneath the thumbs of my mother and Myra. At least…you did your own thing."

"You're doing your own thing now, too," Richie reminded him. "The Eddie I saw in the Jade of the Orient never would have picked up and moved across the country for…anyone. Not even me."

"That's the effect you have on me," Eddie replied. "You make me feel like I can do anything, and I like that. I like who I am when I'm with you."

"Me too."

Truth be told, the other thing Richie liked was that absolutely _no one_ seemed to be at all concerned with the fact that he was holding another man's hand. Richie didn't notice anyone sparing him or Eddie a second glance, much less staring at them like they were evil incarnate. It was nice.

After they bought their tickets for the Ferris wheel from the vendor (again, who didn't seem the least bit concerned about two men buying tickets for a ride together), they made their way to get in line. Richie had been a bit concerned about standing in such close proximity to people, certain that someone would recognize him or at least make a snide remark, but no. Everyone seemed too caught up in their own companions and the scenery around them to worry about what two losers were doing.

As soon as Richie led Eddie onto the ride itself, he immediately sat down on the side that would have them looking out over the water as the ride went around. He tugged at Eddie's hand to sit down on the bench seat with him and said, "You have to watch the water when you ride. The other view can't compare."

Eddie sat down next to him, and Richie didn't even wait for the ride to start to make his move. Richie stretched him arm behind Eddie, letting it rest on the small railing around the rim of the bucket. Eddie immediately inched closer to him, relaxing into Richie's chest and letting his hand fall on Richie's knee.

When the ride began to move a few moments later, Eddie's attention was glued to the horizon, to the sun that was currently burning a bright orange trail through the water. It lit up the entire expanse of water like it was on fire and the bright light was reflected in Eddie's eyes.

"Fuck, Rich," Eddie gasped as they made their way higher into the sky.

"I know," Richie agreed, although his attention was somewhere else entirely. "It's beautiful."

Eddie side-eyed him for a moment and said, "You're not even looking, dumbass."

"I'm looking at the most beautiful thing here," Richie told him, and he was. Everything from Eddie's large and round brown eyes to the fucking adorable little dimples that peeked out of his facial hair every now again made Richie feel like he was thirteen all over again. He had the urge to pinch himself, because fuck, here he was on the _Ferris wheel with the love of his life_, like he had always hoped, and wished, and longed for. And Eddie was _in_ his arms, not just sitting next to him like they would have as friends. _Finally_. It was almost too much to process.

As much as Eddie fought to try and hide it, a grin broke out across his lips and there were those dimples again. Richie pressed his nose into Eddie's cheek before kissing it, and lifting his arm from the back of their cart to wrap around Eddie instead. He reached across Eddie for his left hand, gripping it in his and pulling it close to his chest. This caused Eddie to turn towards him, tearing his gaze away from the water at long last.

Eddie leaned in closer, sealing his lips over Richie's. They were almost to the top of the Ferris wheel, out of sight of any onlookers, so Eddie didn't seem the least bit concerned about pressing his tongue against Richie's lips insistently. Richie opened his mouth for him, and Eddie snaked his right arm up between them, wrapping his fingers around the back of Richie's neck.

They were starting their descent before Eddie broke the kiss, but he still didn't pull away, staring into Richie's eyes. Eddie let out a soft breath a moment later before readjusting himself and resting his head against Richie's shoulder. Richie kissed the top of Eddie's head before resting his cheek against Eddie's hair and finally taking a moment to look out over the ocean as they went.

It only vaguely occurred to Richie that people could see them as they passed back through the loading station, but he still didn't loosen his grip on Eddie. Eddie didn't move to pull away from him either, and for perhaps the first time in Richie's life, it was okay. The furthest thought from Richie's mind were the fucking people and what they might think about two gay guys making out on the Ferris wheel. It couldn't be the first time it had happened on that ride, and all that mattered to Richie in that moment was _Eddie_. Eddie was fucking _alive_ and riding the Ferris wheel while wrapped up in Richie's arms, one of the things Richie had wished for all his life.

Richie closed his eyes as they made their way back up towards the apex of the ride, but it didn't stop the tears that leaked out from Richie's eyelids, dropping onto Eddie's perfectly combed hair beneath him.

When they were back down on the ground and making their way along the line of midway games, Richie asked, "Can I win you a ridiculously stupid stuffed animal?" He was biting at his bottom lip, because he was certain Eddie would scoff at either the goofy prizes or the totally unfair games, but he did neither. Perhaps it was the ride they had just shared, or maybe it was the long talk they'd had in the car, but Eddie surprised him either way.

"If it's from you," Eddie whispered, not quite meeting his eyes, "it won't be stupid."

Grinning, Richie immediately picked out a game that had various sizes of stuffed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as prizes, because both he and Eddie had been fans of the cartoon series in their youth. The toys were shaped more like real turtles, on all fours rather than standing up on two legs, and there were ones dressed to look like each of the four turtles. They all had colorful eye masks as well as elbow and knee pads, and their signature weapon was attached to the backs of their shells. Richie kind of thought they were cute.

The game itself was called _Water Fun!_ and consisted of a row of water guns that the players would aim at targets. This caused little platforms with the stuffed turtles on them rise into the air, and the first player to reach the top won. It only took Richie a couple of tries to get the hang of the game, because if there was one thing playing video games taught him in his youth, it was how to aim at a fucking target.

At some point while he was playing, Richie felt Eddie's hand fall lightly on his upper back. It was a nice touch that Richie found himself leaning into against his own better judgment. He glanced to his right and left, up and down the row of players on either side of him, but not one of them seemed to take any notice of Richie or Eddie. They were all too caught up on keeping their own stream of water on their target to worry about what their fellow competitors were doing.

Richie ended up winning the next game, but he wasn't done quite yet. Since there were a series of sequentially larger prizes, Richie had to win three games in order to secure the largest price for Eddie. As it turned out, Richie had well and truly gotten the hang of the game, because he won the next two games as well.

When the woman attending the game asked Richie which of the largest prizes he wanted, Richie looked back over his shoulder at Eddie, grinning. "Which one will it be?"

Eddie's cheeks appeared slightly red, but Richie couldn't quite tell if he was blushing or it was simply the reflection of the game's lights. "Michelangelo," Eddie said, pointing to the turtle in orange. "He's annoying, just like you."

When the lady handed Richie his prize, Richie stood up from his stool in one fluid motion and held the turtle out for Eddie. Eddie accepted it, wrapping his arms around it tightly. The turtle's four feet were now pressed into Eddie's chest, and Michelangelo was grinning up stupidly at Eddie. Richie knew the feeling.

Richie had the urge to lean down and kiss Eddie. If he wasn't mistaken, Eddie looked like he may have been having the same thoughts himself, but neither of them moved. A few of the people Richie had been playing against were watching them, and he didn't quite think it was prudent just then.

But then something else caught Richie's eye, and his face lit up even more when he noticed the cotton candy and popcorn stall just behind Eddie.

"You can't go to the amusement park and not have cotton candy!" Richie exclaimed, stepping around Eddie to get in line.

"You still eat that shit?" Eddie asked him, hurrying to keep up. When Richie reached his destination and turned to face him, Eddie was grimacing. "It's pure fucking sugar."

"After seeing what I put in my coffee," Richie pointed out, "you're surprised?"

"My mistake," Eddie grumbled. "Well, I'm getting popcorn," he said, taking stock of what else the stall had to offer. "You can't go to the fair and not have popcorn. And it isn't loaded with sugar."

"Just salt."

"Shut up."

"One of each," Richie told the vendor when they got up to the window, quickly paying for them before Eddie could have a chance to protest.

When he handed Eddie his popcorn and they rejoined the throng of people walking past the midway games, Richie wasted no time in opening his bag of cotton candy. He tore off and shoved a large piece of soft pink fluff into his mouth, grinning at the sensation of it melting against his tongue. The taste briefly reminded Richie of when they were children at the Derry Canal Days festival, and Richie desperately wanted to win prizes for Eddie then too. And Jesus Christ, here they were, with a big stuffed turtle still tucked under Eddie's arms. It almost made Richie's head spin trying to process it all.

Eddie, meanwhile, had opened his box of popcorn and was systematically popping single pieces into his mouth at a time. Because of course he was, and it made Richie want to kiss him all over again. Richie shoved more cotton candy into his mouth to distract himself, and then Eddie pointed out something else.

"Let's go in the photo booth," Eddie said, pointing to the little cubicle off to the side with a curtain hanging over the entrance. "Just like when we were kids."

When they were seated in the darkened safety of the photo booth, Richie could finally turn and kiss Eddie just as he'd wanted to do for the last fifteen minutes. The light flashed as a picture snapped, and at first, Eddie grinned into Richie's mouth. A moment later, however, Eddie pulled away with a scowl.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie said, pressing a hand against Richie's chest. "I can taste all that fucking sugar just on your _lips_. How can _eat_ that?"

"With my mouth," Richie replied, shoving another large piece of fluff into his mouth.

Eddie rolled his eyes as a flash of light indicated another picture being taken. Then Eddie leaned against Richie's shoulder, apparently deciding that they should have more than one sweet picture. Richie quickly wrapped his arm around him, pulling him closer and leaning his head against the top of Eddie's head just like he had done on the Ferris wheel. He could see Eddie tightening his arms around his stuffed turtle as the last picture flashed.

Eddie was yawning when they walked through the parking lot back to Richie's car nearly an hour later. Eddie was digging in the bottom of his popcorn box for the very last pieces while Richie finished his cotton candy and threw away the plastic bag in a garbage can along the way.

Richie glanced back over his shoulder, and when he was sure they were alone, he threw an arm around Eddie's shoulders. Eddie leaned up against him, humming contentedly.

"Thanks, Richie," Eddie mumbled sleepily. "That was nice."

"Yeah, it was," Richie agreed as he fished his car key out of his pocket. "Ready to go home now?"

"Mhm."

On their way back to Richie's apartment, Michelangelo sat on top of Eddie's lap as he stared out his window at the passing lights and cars. His eyelids were drooping and it almost looked like he was about to doze off, but he didn't. There was a contented smile on his lips that didn't fade until Richie pulled into the parking lot for his apartment.

"_Shit_," Eddie whispered, staring up at the high-rise building that sprawled up into the air. "This is _your_ building?"

"I told you it was plush, Eds," Richie said, putting his car into park and turning off the ignition. "Try not to act so surprised."

"No, but…" Eddie began, but he trailed off. He leaned forward, staring up at the white concrete building and the expanse of windows and balconies that lined it. "This is _nice_." He stared back at Richie in awe.

Richie snorted as he opened his door and got out. "Nicer than you thought, hm?"

Eddie climbed out of the car a moment later, still clutching at his stuffed turtle and gazing up at the building. He shrugged nonchalantly then, because god forbid that he let on that he _loved_ Richie's place.

"Admit it, Eds," Richie said, opening the trunk of the car and pulling out his duffle bag. "You are _in love_ with your new home."

"Stop calling me Eds."

Richie could only grin, because it was a sure sign that Eddie admitted defeat when he resorted to an old argument which had fuck all to do with their current conversation. "Is it okay if we leave everything else until tomorrow?" he asked, staring at the bags and boxes of Eddie's shit in the trunk. "I'm fucking beat."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, leaning over to pick up his toiletry bag, which was still the only one that Richie would let him carry. "I just want to see my home."

A warm sensation exploded to life inside Richie's chest, because they were _home_. They were no longer just talking about it, but they were actually _there_, and Richie had to fight to keep the tears from springing up in his eyes again.

Slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and pulling both of Eddie's suitcases out of the trunk next, Richie shut it and began leading Eddie towards the large glass double doors beneath the deep blue canopy that sat atop them. Bright lights lined the walkway and Richie could just make out his favorite doorman at the front desk inside the lobby.

"Wait till you meet Jeff," Richie told him as Eddie pushed opened one of the doors and held it open for Richie. "He's the best."

The lobby was painted in white with a matching white desk. There was an expansive red rug on the floor with soft red chairs lined up in various places along the walls.

As soon as Richie stepped inside, Jeff immediately yelled, "Richie Tozier!" like he was looking at a ghost.

"Yeah, yeah," Richie said good-naturedly, leading Eddie over to the desk. "As I've told Helen, news of my death has been greatly exaggerated. "

"So were you in rehab this entire time like people seem to think you were?" Jeff asked, his tone suggesting that the entire rumor was bullshit. He got up from his seat and went over to the wall behind him, picking up one of the totes on the table there.

"Fuck no," Richie told him when Jeff rejoined them at the desk. "I know I'm a mess, but I'm not that much of a mess. We just had a lot of things going on in our group of friends," he said around a sigh.

Jeff had set the tote down and Richie realized that it was full of all the mail he had received while he had been away. He had all of his bills set up for autopay, so it was mostly full of junk mail and probably some fan mail mixed in. Along with letting Jason know that he was back in town and setting up a meeting with him, Richie suddenly knew what his job for tomorrow was.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jeff replied, frowning deeply. "Is everything okay?"

"It is now, thanks," Richie said before gesturing to Eddie. "This is my best friend, Eddie. He's going to be staying with me."

"Eddie," Jeff greeted, sticking out his hand for Eddie to shake. "I'm Jeff, nighttime doorman and Richie's number one fan."

Eddie blinked and without missing a beat, he asked, "He has fans?"

"Yeah, I know," Jeff agreed, running a hand through his curly mop of blond hair. "I'm probably the only one in existence, but I never claimed to have my head on straight."

"Hey now!" Richie cried, because one of them picking on him at a time was certainly enough. "I don't need the both of you ganging up on me now, because if you are, this whole deal's off."

"I'm glad you're back though," Jeff said around a grin. "I've really missed seeing your shows. Are you still going to be doing comedy?"

Richie stiffened under Jeff's gaze, because he wasn't sure that his new brand of comedy was going to be exactly what Jeff had in mind. "Yeah," Richie managed to get out, however. "It's probably going to be a while before I get back into the swing of things, but…eventually, yeah."

"That's good to hear," Jeff said before turning to Eddie. "Do you have more luggage? I can send someone out to get it."

"Yeah," Eddie said, adjusting his arms around his stuffed turtle and toiletry bag. "We're going to wait until the morning though. It's been a long drive."

"Do you want me to hold this too until then?" Jeff said, patting the tote in front of him.

"That would be great," Richie said. "I think we're just going to pass out tonight. We can move his shit in tomorrow."

They were riding the elevator up to the top floor of the building when Eddie spoke again. "Jeff's nice," he said.

"I knew you'd like him," Richie replied, grinning. "Just don't think the two of you are going to be conspiring against me like that anymore. One of you is enough."

"You love it," Eddie said, and he was suddenly leaning up on his tiptoes. He pressed his lips against Richie's while Michelangelo got squished between them.

"I love you," Richie mumbled against his lips.

"I love you," Eddie replied, stepping away and gazing up into Richie's eyes. He squeezed his turtle in his arms again and said, "Thank you for my turtle, by the way. I love him too."

"We'll have to go back so I can win you one of each."

When the elevator doors opened and the bell dinged, Eddie immediately hurried into the hallway beyond, anxious to see where he would now be living. Richie followed him, but then took the lead, guiding Eddie across the small lobby to the front door of his apartment.

Richie set one of Eddie's suitcases down while he dug inside his pocket for the key to his door. He wasted no time in getting the door open and then stepping aside so that Eddie could enter first. The lights were off, so Richie reached just inside the doorway and flipped the light switch there. Bright white lights flooded the open plan apartment, which caused Eddie to gasp once again.

They stood in an entryway with a long table against one wall and a bright blue plush rug on the white tile floor. Richie set his keys down on the table while he closed and locked the door behind them. Eddie had stepped farther into the room, making his way into the living room area.

The chairs were immaculate white with bright blue throw pillows and blankets strewn across them. There was another blue rug in the center of that area with a glass coffee table that sat on top. A flat screen television hung on the wall next to the door and on the other side of the chairs was an entire wall of windows that looked out over the ocean beyond. The moon was up now, blazing a trail of silver diamonds dancing across the water.

Eddie dropped his toiletry bag next to the couch before making his way to the windows. He was still clutching onto Michelangelo tightly as he said, "It's fucking gorgeous."

Richie set Eddie's suitcases and his duffle bag next to the couch as well before coming up behind Eddie. "I know," Richie agreed, wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist. He kissed the back of Eddie's neck and added, "I don't like to brag, but I'm pretty fond of it myself." He tilted his head, trailing kisses up towards Eddie's jaw. "But it looks so much nicer with you here."

This caused Eddie to giggle and he suddenly turned, pressing his turtle up between them again. He pressed another kiss to Richie's lips before he turned to take in the kitchen area next.

The cabinets were white with a deep blue stone countertop and silver appliances. There was an island counter with blue cushioned barstools lined up against it, and in the middle of the blue stone was a small neatly written note from his housekeeper.

_Lasagna's in the fridge. Welcome home!_

_~Helen_

"Leave it to Helen," Richie said, tapping the note on the counter. "I told her we'd be home tonight and I had no idea what we'd be eating, because there's fuck all in the fridge. Wait till you taste her cooking. You'll think you've died and gone to heaven."

"Already there," Eddie said. He set Michelangelo down on one of the barstools before he turned to wrap his arms around Richie's neck. "You know, I was really kind of nervous about coming here."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Richie placed his hands on Eddie's cheeks, rubbing his thumbs along his facial hair gently.

Eddie shrugged. "It's what I do though – worry. You should be fully aware of that by now."

"I hate the thought that you were scared though." Richie placed a kiss on the tip of Eddie's nose.

"I was excited too," Eddie told him. "I was just afraid that…I'd feel like I was intruding here. Because this is your home and not mine. Because you already have friends and fans here that I know nothing about-"

Richie silenced him with a finger against his lips. "It's your home now too."

"I know," Eddie replied, "and…it actually already _feels_ like it." He let out a soft breath before he added, "I feel more at home here already than I ever felt with my mother or Myra. Maybe because it was always my home. You were always wishing for someone to share it with, and I was always hoping to…feel free."

"And you feel that way here?"

Eddie nodded solemnly. "_You_ make me feel that way. You never make me feel smothered the way they did."

Richie let his hands drop down so that he could wrap his arms around Eddie's waist instead. He pulled Eddie closer before leaning down to capture Eddie's lips in a kiss.

Eddie groaned softly and pulled away before he mumbled, "You still fucking taste like _sugar_. How the _fuck_ is that even possible?"

"That's just me, Eddie baby," Richie disagreed, "sweet as fuck. You said so yourself."

"Oh dear god," Eddie groaned, "why did I ever tell you that? And 'Eds' is one thing, but 'baby' has got to stop."

"Why don't you make me?"

"If you think I can't shut you up, you've got another thing coming."

"Want to see the bedroom then?" Richie asked, grabbing Eddie's hand and guiding him down the hallway on the other side of the kitchen.

"You know what?" Eddie asked as they went. "On second thought, I changed my mind. I'm getting the fuck out of here."

"Wait till you see it," Richie said, reaching around the corner at the end of the hall and turning the light switch on there as well.

The bedroom was in a similar color scheme as the rest of the apartment – bright white carpeting and walls with a deep blue bedspread and matching curtains that framed the picture windows. The bedframe itself and the rest of the furniture were in a soft wood tone. The lamps had silver bases with blue lampshades, and a few silver picture frames littered the surfaces next to them.

"We need to get one of our pictures framed for in here," Eddie said, inspecting the pictures of Richie standing next to various LA landmarks – the Santa Monica pier where they had just been and the Hollywood sign being a couple that Eddie recognized.

Richie hummed in agreement. "And for the rest of the apartment. One of the things I always wished for. So I don't have to look like such a loser, going to all these places by myself."

"You're not, Rich," Eddie said, directing all his attention to Richie then. "I told you. _Look_ at this place." He gestured to the windows, one which looked out over the ocean as well while the other led to a balcony where a highway in the distance could be seen. "It may not have been _everything_ you wanted, but look at the life you've made for yourself. I think it's pretty amazing if you ask me."

"It is now," Richie said, reaching out to take Eddie's hands in his. He slowly guided Eddie to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulling Eddie down on top of him. A moment later, Richie was flat on his back with Eddie kissing him deeply and pressing against him insistently.

"What about the lasagna?" Eddie asked in between kisses.

"I'm having dessert first," Richie said, wrapping his arms firmly around Eddie and pulling him even closer yet. He could feel a rumble of laughter somewhere deep within Eddie's chest.

"You certainly taste like it," Eddie replied, not bothering to let up on his kisses this time.

Unlike their last aborted make out session in their hotel room in New York, this one lasted well through the night as the moonlight threw its glow across the ocean waters outside.

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: I've never been to Pacific Park, but I spent an inordinate amount of time watching videos of the Santa Monica Pier in order to make this as accurate as possible. There really is a midway game like this called Water Fun!, because people can't think of more original names, I guess. And this is what this fandom has made me do, so…who am I to complain? :P_


	23. Chapter 23: The Calm Before the Storm

_Author's note: So I lied. Richie and Eddie decided they wanted to have some more sexy times before things started getting complicated again. This chapter still conforms to the M rating and there's nothing graphic, but this scene is quite a bit more involved than any of the previous ones, so please tread carefully. If you'd rather avoid this part entirely, please skip down to about halfway through when Eddie asks Richie if he's okay._

**Brave  
**Chapter 23 – The Calm Before the Storm

Eddie was lying on his back, stretched out in the middle of Richie's bed. _Richie's bed_. Eddie almost had to keep reminding himself of where he was, of the fact that they weren't just sharing a bed at a hotel or an inn anymore. No. They were in Richie's bed now. In Richie's home. _Their_ home.

They had started off kissing with Eddie on top, but at some point, Richie had flipped them over. Richie was now partially on top of him, his body comfortably covering Eddie's. Richie's leg was in between Eddie's, one of his hands just reaching into the waistband of Eddie's jeans to cup his hip gently.

Eddie moaned into Richie's kiss, bringing his hands up to thread his fingers through the hair at the back of Richie's neck. Eddie wrapped his free leg around Richie's, thrusting up slightly into Richie.

"Shit," Richie muttered against his lips before pulling away. He was breathing heavily, his mouth hanging open as he gasped for air. Richie's cheeks were flushed and his glasses were beginning to get a little steamed up.

This caused Eddie to chuckle, but then it seemed to hit him that he was the one who was eliciting this response from Richie. Richie was the one on top of him and he was getting breathless just from _kissing_ Eddie. Of all people. This wasn't exactly news anymore. After all, it was two months into their relationship and making out was becoming a common occurrence for them, but Eddie still had to remind himself that this was actually happening. That Richie completely and totally wanted _him_.

Richie still hadn't resumed their kisses because they were quickly approaching the point where Richie would always pull back. Would always stop things before they got carried away and they went too far, and Eddie fucking loved him for it. Loved that Richie was always so attentive and considerate of him, never pushing for something that Eddie wasn't ready for. But this time, Eddie decided he wanted more.

"Rich?"

"Hm?"

"Don't stop yet."

Eddie could see him swallowing, and then Richie asked, "How, um…how far did you have in mind?"

"Not all the way," Eddie immediately replied, because he certainly didn't want to freak Richie out. "Just…I want to feel you. More of you."

Eddie wrapped one of his fingers around the beltloop of Richie's jeans and tugged, pulling Richie to straddle him completely. Richie looked completely shocked, because this was always the point where they stopped. Always.

"If…if you want to," Eddie added tentatively.

Richie grinned before leaning down to kiss Eddie again. Their chests were pressed together and Richie ran his thumbs over Eddie's cheeks. "I want to."

"Can…can we take our shirts off?" Eddie asked. He stuck his hands up underneath the hem of Richie's t-shirt, pushing it up and running his fingers along Richie's stomach. "We haven't done that since back in Derry that day Myra called and kind of aborted things. Can we…I want us to see each other again…and see where it goes this time with no interruptions." Eddie paused before adding, "If you do."

"Yeah," Richie gasped. "God, fuck, yeah. Just…are you sure?"

Eddie nodded. "I'm sure. Nothing else just yet, and…I'll still have my bandages on, but…is that okay? That…I won't be…as naked as you?" Eddie knew Richie wouldn't be upset at him for it, but he still took a moment to watch Richie's eyes searchingly, questioningly.

"Yeah, more than okay," Richie replied. He sat up straight, wasting no time in pulling his t-shirt off. He flung it to the floor without so much as a second thought before returning his gaze to Eddie. Almost immediately, however, he diverted his eyes away, biting at his bottom lip.

It wasn't the first time they had seen each other shirtless, but this was certainly the first time it had been in a completely sexual manner. Richie always helped Eddie with his bandages, and they'd seen each other coming out of the shower without their shirts on more than their fair share of times, but never with the express intent of becoming frisky. Sure, it had led that way sometimes, but this was different, and Richie knew it.

It warmed Eddie's heart to know that Richie was just as nervous about Eddie seeing him, probably imagining that he wouldn't measure up to Eddie's buff and chiseled muscles and abs achieved after hours of working out. Maybe Richie wasn't hot in the traditional sense – so he had love handles and his stomach hung over the waistband of his jeans the tiniest bit – but something about him made Eddie feel turned on like no one else ever had.

Like no one else ever would.

Eddie ran his hands up Richie's stomach and chest, letting them settle against Richie's pecs. He rubbed his thumbs over the hair there and said, "I told you back in Derry, you got _hot_. You're fucking _beautiful_."

Richie leaned over him again, letting his hands drift up under Eddie's t-shirt. He tugged it upwards while he gave Eddie a long and deep kiss, perhaps expressing his appreciation for Eddie's words in a way that he couldn't quite verbalize at the moment.

Eddie pushed up against the mattress so that Richie could tug his shirt off over his shoulders. He helped Richie push it up over his head next before Richie flung it to the floor to join his own.

Richie let his hands wander down from Eddie's shoulders, past the expanse of bandages that took up the majority of his chest, and finally to his toned abs just peeking out from underneath the bottom of the bandages. "You're so fucking beautiful too," Richie told him, one of his hands returning to the gauzy material. "This isn't going to change that. Not for me. Not now. Not ever. If you don't want me to touch it or see it in that way yet, it's perfectly okay, but please know that."

His bottom lip quivering the tiniest bit, Eddie reached up to wrap his around the back of Richie's neck again. He pulled Richie down on top of him, and he loved the feeling of Richie's skin and chest hair against his body. A part of him did want to rip off his bandages then and there so that he could feel even more of Richie, but the twinge of fear in the pit of his stomach at the thought of it was enough to stop him. Besides, he was quickly approaching the end of the week when the doctor told him he would have to stop wearing them. That thought made him nervous, because the bandages kind of felt like a security blanket in a way, and Eddie didn't want to quite think about going without them just yet.

Instead, Eddie kissed Richie deeply as Richie snaked his arm underneath Eddie's waist. Richie pulled him closer, and Eddie thrust up, eliciting a gasp from Richie. Richie then started trailing kisses down along Eddie's neck towards his shoulder. Richie squeezed Eddie around his waist again, simultaneously thrusting his hips down against Eddie's.

Eddie whined at the sensation, but it was a sound of pure pleasure, because he had never felt so wanted and desired in all his life. The way Richie was holding him, and kissing him, and gazing down at him like he was the most precious thing he had ever held in his arms made Eddie's eyes burn with emotion.

Richie, however, had seemed to misread his reactions, because he immediately stilled, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Are you okay?" Richie asked, sounding almost frantic. "Is it…is it too much? Do you want to stop?"

Shaking his head firmly, Eddie gasped out, "No, god. It's not too much. Please don't stop." He ran his hands down Richie's chest, looping them around his waist and pulling him down insistently. "I want you, Richie."

"Want me how?" Richie asked, going back to laving kisses along the top of his bandages. Eddie could hear the smile in his voice.

"Not that far, dumbass," Eddie said, slapping against Richie's hip playfully. "I just…" His voice died in his throat, morphing into a groan when Richie worked his way back up the other side of Eddie's neck. His soft breath there against Eddie's skin caused Eddie to shiver in pleasure.

"What?" Richie asked, kissing at that sensitive spot behind Eddie's ear. "What do you want, baby?"

This time, Eddie did nothing to protest Richie's use of the word 'baby', because he loved the tone in Richie's voice when he said it. Just like the way Richie was holding him, and kissing him, and _looking_ at him, his voice was so tender; Eddie couldn't possibly be angry or snap at him for it.

Eddie swallowed hard, because a tiny part of him was nervous at expressing his wants to Richie. He knew Richie wouldn't think any less of him for it, and indeed, judging by the way he was currently clinging to Eddie, he probably wanted this just as much as Eddie did. Still, being sexual in any way and asking for things in the bedroom was such a foreign concept to him, it scared him at the same time. His only experience with this sort of thing had been with Myra, which hadn't been positive or fulfilling at all.

"Do…do you want to get off?" Eddie asked, his voice small.

This caused Richie to pull away, his breathing hard as he stared down at Eddie. "I…is that what you want?"

Eddie nodded solemnly, gripping Richie's hips tightly in his hands to emphasize his point. "If…if that's okay with you."

Richie laughed breathlessly, still struggling to get his breathing under control. "Do you have any idea how fucking long I hoped and wished that you'd ask me something like that? I must confess, there were more than a few wet dreams I had where questions like that would come up a lot."

It was Eddie's turn to laugh, because he still had a hard time believing that Richie lusted after him like this. That anyone would want him in _that way_ at all. That Richie had wanted him since they were horny teenagers, having fucking stupid wet dreams about each other.

"So you want to get off like this?" Eddie asking, bucking his hips and pulling Richie down against him.

"Holy shit," Richie murmured, burying his head in Eddie's shoulder. "I want that like you wouldn't believe." He paused, lifting his head a moment later to stare into Eddie's eyes. He cupped Eddie's cheek with his free hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the stubble there. "Only if you're absolutely positive that it's what you want."

Eddie smiled softly, because he didn't think he'd ever tire of Richie checking to make sure that everything he was doing was all right. Didn't think he'd ever tire of Richie wanting to look out for him and making sure he didn't hurt him. Eddie was more than capable of taking care of himself, but there was something so pure about Richie being so careful and gentle with him, something that Eddie had never known before. Sure, his wife and his mother had coddled him to the point of being smothering, but that was always about control; it had never stemmed from Richie's place of genuine concern.

"I'm positive, Rich," Eddie replied. He brought one of his hands up, cupping Richie's cheek, his thumb caressing the corner of Richie's lips. "Maybe…I don't know. Maybe it's finally knowing I'll be free of Myra in just a few short months, or maybe it's finally being here with you in your apartment."

"Our apartment," Richie corrected, and there was a soft twinkle of a tear in one of his eyes.

"Our apartment," Eddie repeated. "Or maybe it's…because tonight was so fucking amazing and…it made me realize that I want to take that next step with you. That I'm ready for things to…take that turn."

Richie smiled, ducking his head to place another kiss against Eddie's lips. "I love you so much," he said when he pulled away again. "But if at any point you decide it's too much for you and you want it to stop, just tell me and I will. You know I won't be mad if you do, right?"

Eddie nodded. "I know," Eddie whispered, his fingertips threading through the locks at the back of Richie's neck. "I trust you, Richie. And the same goes for you, you know. If you get freaked out or whatever, just tell me to get off. I promise I won't be offended by that either."

"But I thought the whole point of this _was_ to 'get off'," Richie said, dipping his head and pressing more kisses along Eddie's neck. "That is what we're doing, isn't it? If I tell you to 'get off', how are you going to know the difference?"

"Oh, Jesus," Eddie muttered, but he turned his head to give Richie better access. He rolled his eyes and said, "How about 'stop' then? Just say 'stop'. How's that work for you?"

"It works," Richie agreed, grinding his hips down into Eddie's and renewing his kisses against Eddie's skin. "But I don't want to stop."

"Don't stop then," Eddie echoed. "God, don't stop. Please." Again, he trailed his hands down to Richie's hips and hooked his index fingers through the beltloops there. He thrust up again before throwing his head back against the mattress in pleasure.

"I won't," Richie murmured, beginning to match Eddie's movements. "I just…don't know how good this'll be, because I have no fucking clue what I'm doing."

Eddie laughed softly, turning his head to lay some kisses along Richie's cheek in encouragement. "And I do? Believe me, I wasn't exactly in the habit of getting off with Myra. It's been fucking ages since I've done anything like this."

"Could we not…talk about your soon-to-be ex-wife right now?" Richie asked, turning his own head to capture Eddie's lips in a kiss. "It's kind of killing the mood."

"Now you know how I felt," Eddie replied, pressing his tongue into Richie's mouth. "Try being married to her." He rained kisses against Richie's lips before he added, "Just do what feels right. This is _me_. You don't have to worry about embarrassing yourself since, you know, you do that on a regular basis already."

"Fuck off," Richie muttered, sucking in a sharp breath at a particularly enthusiastic thrust from Eddie.

"Is that okay?" Eddie asked, stilling his movements, not sure if his had been welcome or not.

"God, fuck, yeah," Richie whispered, tightening his arm around Eddie's waist and pulling Eddie against him like he was holding on for dear life. "Holy shit. You're going to be the death of me here, but…it's good."

Smiling, Eddie hummed in response. He released Richie's beltloops to grip his hips for more leverage. Then he slipped his hands underneath the waistband of Richie's jeans, his skin sweaty and sticky against Eddie's fingers. They would so need showers after their little romp, but right now, Eddie couldn't bring himself to care. He found the elastic of Richie's boxers next, letting his fingers drift downwards ever so slightly, just reaching the gentle curve of his ass.

"Is this still okay?" Eddie asked, his eyes going up to Richie's face.

"Yeah," Richie gasped out, finding Eddie's lips again as if to prove his point. He kissed him fiercely this time, even more so than before, and Eddie wondered if that was a telltale sign that Richie was getting close. "More than okay."

It excited Eddie to no end just thinking about the fact that he and Richie had the rest of their lives to do shit like this – to get to know each other in the bedroom, to get each other off, and have sex eventually. They had all the time in the world to do what they had wanted for their entire lives, to explore each other, and Eddie could barely even think straight anymore.

All he could process was the fact that Richie was thrusting against him steadily and almost frantically now, his breath coming even harder than it had before. His grip was so tight around Eddie's waist, but Eddie loved the feeling of it there, of feeling so wanted by the man of his dreams. Richie was still kissing Eddie in between his heavy pants for breath, while Eddie gladly opened his mouth for the other man and just let Richie _love_ him.

This thought – that Richie was expressing his love for Eddie – finally pushed Eddie over the edge. He thrust up one last time as a groan was ripped from his throat. He clung to Richie, his hands pressing down insistently against the small of Richie's back, his back arching up off the bed as his orgasm tore through him. Eddie's heels dug into the mattress as he tried to find more parts of Richie to touch, to guide him through his release as he rode it out against Richie's hips.

Richie, meanwhile, had slowed his movements, giving Eddie time to come down from his orgasm.

Eddie's breath was heaving as he collapsed back against the mattress, moving his hands to wrap his arms securely around Richie's waist. Once his breathing had begun to slow, he asked, "Did you…?"

"Not yet," Richie said, trailing soft kisses along Eddie's cheek.

"Don't stop, then," Eddie said, using his arms to pull Richie's hips down against his. "Come on. Cum for me, Richie."

Richie moaned at his words, resuming his earlier nearly-frantic pace. It only took him a couple more thrusts, most probably driven by Eddie's words, before he growled in pleasure. He dropped his head to mattress next to Eddie, burying his head in the soft covers as he rutted desperately against Eddie.

Eddie had never seen him like this, letting go this much, and Eddie hugged him tighter. He curled his arms around Richie's waist even more, and let one of hands trail up, lightly dragging his hand across Richie's back in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

Richie groaned one last time before he sagged heavily against Eddie, his breathing coming in long and heavy gasps. He was shaking slightly, and Eddie wasn't sure if it was from his release or from the gamut of emotions he was experiencing right now. A moment later, however, a sob escaped from Richie, and Eddie realized he was crying into the mattress.

"Hey," Eddie said, turning his head and trying to find Richie's face in the mess of covers underneath them. His stomach tightened uncomfortably, because he would never forgive himself if this had upset Richie in any way. Perhaps Richie had realized that he wasn't ready for this, that he regretting what they had just done, and that thought made Eddie feel sick.

He released Richie's waist and brought his hand up to push some of Richie's hair out of his face. "Rich? Are you okay?"

The next sound to escape Richie was a laugh, and that helped to assuage Eddie's fears the tiniest bit. Richie turned his head and although he was indeed crying – his cheeks were wet and his eyes were slightly red – he was also smiling like a fucking lunatic.

"I just got off with the man of my dreams," Richie said. "Fuck yeah, I'm okay. I've actually never been better." He swallowed and took some deep breaths before he added, "Just a little emotional from everything." He brought one of his hands up to Eddie's cheek, caressing it gently. "What about you? Are _you_ okay?"

It was Eddie's turn to laugh, because Richie had voiced his sentiments almost exactly. "Yeah," Eddie whispered, pressing a soft and sleepy kiss to Richie's lips. "God, that was fucking amazing. _You_ were fucking amazing, so it matters fuck all that you didn't know what you were doing."

Richie was still smiling as he seemed to find his energy again. He pushed himself up with his arms so that he was hovering over Eddie, staring down at him intently. He was still running a hand over Eddie's cheek, and it looked like he was trying to blink away some of the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

It was fucking intense, the way Richie was looking at him, and Eddie didn't think he'd ever tire of seeing it. Hell, he still wondered if Richie's feelings for him were as intense as Eddie's own, and all it took was one look at the expression on Richie's face just then to know the answer to that.

"I can't believe you're here," Richie gulped out. It sounded like Richie had been about to let out a sob, but he was able to contain it. "Not just…in our home, in our bed, but…_here_. _Alive_. Because when we were down in the sewer, I was so certain that fucking clown had killed you. Oh god, you don't know how afraid I was."

"I'm here, Rich," Eddie replied, placing his own hands on Richie's cheeks. "I'm alive because of you. Because you wouldn't leave me down there and because you gave me something to fight for."

"Did…did anyone ever tell you what happened in the hospital after they brought you in? That first day you were there?"

Eddie shook his head.

"I guess it wasn't important in the grand scheme of things, but you stopped breathing for a little while," Richie told him. "They said you went into respiratory arrest, which apparently wasn't that out of the ordinary, considering how much blood you lost, but…fuck. First, I was so sure that clown had killed you, but then we got you to the hospital _alive_, and you stopped _breathing_…I was so sure I was going to lose you."

"You didn't lose me," Eddie said reassuringly. He let one of his hands drift around to the back of Richie's neck, running his fingers through the unruly locks there. Eddie was coming to learn more and more that as much as he wished Richie would do something about his ridiculous hair, Eddie really didn't want him to at all; he loved the way it felt between his fingers, especially when they were being intimate.

"I know, but you should have seen me," Richie said. "I never cried so hard in my life – sitting on your bed, and out in the waiting room, and…they let me take showers there, because I wouldn't leave you, and that was when I let go a lot. I even punched the shower walls a time or two because I was so upset."

It wasn't a surprise to Eddie that Richie had cried over him in the hospital. Bill had told him as much, even though Eddie still had a hard time imagining Richie crying on what could have potentially been his deathbed. What did surprise Eddie, however, was something else entirely.

Lifting his head up from the mattress, Eddie asked, "You wouldn't leave me?"

"No," Richie replied. "The others were trying to get me to go back to the inn to at least take a shower, because we had just come out of the sewer. And I wouldn't. So thank god the staff took pity on me, because I was fucking _rank_."

"You're always rank."

"Fuck off," Richie said warmly. After a moment, he said, "But I had this irrational fear that if I left…something horrible would happen to you. That I'd leave, and you'd die all alone, never knowing how I felt." Richie's eyes were wide, and there was a shimmer of tears in them again.

Eddie had the urge to stop him, because he hated seeing Richie this upset. On the other hand, however, it was rare that Richie opened up to him like this. It was rare that Richie made himself this vulnerable, so Eddie was going to let him. Eddie was going to let him, because it made him feel things he didn't even know he was capable of feeling. There was a warm tingling sensation somewhere inside him that he didn't think he'd ever get enough of.

"I was already beating myself up over the fact that I didn't tell you how I felt when I had the chance," Richie went on. "I wasted so much time, and…I was so stupid."

"We both wasted time," Eddie said. "I had ample opportunity to tell you how I felt, and I never did either."

"But you did eventually," Richie pointed out. "Meanwhile, I went right on being a coward just like I always have been. Even after I almost lost you once and for all, I was still too terrified to be honest about my feelings. At least you had the courage to go after what you wanted."

"So did you," Eddie said. He released Richie's cheek with his left hand, holding it up between them. He let the soft lamplight glint off of his ring for a few moments before he said, "So I made the first move, but…that doesn't make you any less in this relationship. Can it…stop being a competition and can you stop putting me up on a pedestal, because you think I did things first or better? This is a partnership, not…a contest, you know? It doesn't matter how we got here. All that matters is that we are here."

Richie reached out, cupping his hand over Eddie's, over his ring. "Yeah," Richie agreed. "I just…keep thinking about how we almost didn't have this, and…it scares me. You're the _love of my life_, and I almost let you slip away."

"Not anymore," Eddie vowed, meeting and holding Richie's gaze. "You don't have to worry about losing me. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I love you so much, Richie. More than you could ever imagine."

Richie's bottom lip quivered and he suddenly lowered his head again, burying it in Eddie's shoulder. He didn't say anything for a long time, but he clung to Eddie like he might disappear if he loosened his grip even for a moment. He had tightened his legs around Eddie's waist and was holding onto Eddie's shoulders, his arms pressed down over Eddie's. He was quivering slightly, and Eddie heard errant faint sobs coming from him every now and again.

It was strange, but all at once, Richie seemed so small. One of the things that Eddie loved most about Richie were his solid, firm shoulders and arms, the way they held Eddie so protectively. It always made Eddie feel so safe when he was in Richie's arms, but the way Richie was clinging to him and shaking sort of shattered that image for Eddie. At the same time, however, Eddie had only seen him like this once before (after Richie's nightmare while in their room in Derry), and Eddie felt blessed that Richie trusted him enough to let go in front of him like this.

Eddie tightened his hold around Richie, continuing to thread the fingers of one hand through the hair at the back of Richie's neck. Eddie ran his other hand over Richie's back, gently dragging his fingernails over the skin of Richie's shoulder. Burying his nose in the top of Richie's head, Eddie pressed soft kisses into the hair, reveling in the way Richie's curls tickled his face.

Richie eventually quieted and stilled, and Eddie almost thought he had fallen asleep. But then Richie whispered, "I love you so fucking much."

This caused Eddie to smile and he asked, "Are you okay?"

Sniffling and lifting his head, Richie said, "Yeah." He used one hand to push his glasses up to his forehead and rub at his reddened and swollen eyes. Once his glasses were back in place on his nose, Richie muttered, "Sorry. I didn't realize this shit would make me so emotional."

"Don't apologize," Eddie immediately replied. "After the number of breakdowns I've had, I'd say you're entitled to a couple. Besides, I like that you feel safe enough to kind of fall apart in front of me. I…hate knowing that you're keeping so much bottled up inside and…I want you to be able to talk about these things with me. You know that, right?"

Richie nodded, lazily kissing Eddie like he was still recovering from their orgasm together. "Hungry?" he asked when he pulled away. His eyes were still watering a bit, but his smile from earlier had returned, and Eddie was content in knowing that they were happy tears. "'Cause getting off with you works up my appetite."

"Mm," Eddie mumbled around a soft laugh. "Yeah, but I need a fucking shower, because cumming in your pants is fucking gross." Eddie crinkled up his nose as he wiggled his waist around uncomfortably.

"Your idea."

"No regrets."

"None."

This caused Eddie to grin as Richie crawled off him and got to his feet. Eddie stayed where he was for a moment, watching Richie make his way over to his dresser and pull out his own change of clothes.

"The master bath is through there," Richie said, gesturing to the door on the other side of the dresser. "I'll grab your bags and get a shower in main bathroom."

* * *

When Eddie emerged from his shower over half an hour later, it was to the smell of lasagna drifting down the hallway to the bedroom. Eddie followed the scent, still patting his hair dry with one of Richie's large and fuzzy yellow towels.

Richie was in the kitchen, setting out two plates, two bowels, and silverware on the island counter.

There was just one little problem.

"Fuck, Richie," Eddie said. "It smells amazing, but…you know I can't have lasagna. Gluten, you know. I…can just order-"

Richie held up a finger and grinned as he said, "Already taken care of." He stepped forward around the island counter and grabbed one of Eddie's hands. He led him over to the stove where he picked up another note from the counter and handed it to Eddie.

_Gluten free noodles in the lasagna in the red dish for your friend.  
__Wouldn't want to make him sick his first night in LA.  
__Or make him think LA is full of a bunch of idiots like you.  
__Enjoy!  
__~Helen_

"Rich…" Eddie began, but then his words died in his throat. His eyes went from the note he was holding in between his thumb and forefinger to Richie standing just before him. "You…told her about my dietary restrictions?"

"Why do you always act like _I don't know you_?" Richie demanded, throwing his hands up as if in despair. "No egg, soy, gluten, or cashews," he said, ticking each one off on his fingers. "I'm not about to let my housekeeper make you sick. Do you think I'm a fucking idiot?"

Eddie's eyes drifted down to the note in his fingers again, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smirk. "Helen seems to think you are."

Richie reached forward, snatching away the note. "Ignore that. She just likes to tease. Just like you. And Jeff. And why do I always seem to find people like you? It's exhausting." Richie bent over at the oven, opening the door and peeking in at the food. "Should be ready soon."

Eddie came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Richie's waist. When Richie straightened up, Eddie buried his head in Richie's back and whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?" Richie asked, his hands coming up to wrap around Eddie's at his stomach.

Smiling deeply, Eddie said, "For taking my restrictions seriously. For not trying to convince me that it's all in my head. For not giving me a hard time about it. I mean, you make comments about the 'scary gluten' and shit, but I know none of it is ever meant in a mean way. Nothing about you is ever mean. And you never seem to think twice about finding food that accommodates me."

"It's not that hard," Richie said, turning around in Eddie's arms. He pulled Eddie into an embrace, leaning over to kiss him.

Just then, they were interrupted by a soft _ping_ from Richie's phone which was sitting out on the counter. Richie reached around Eddie, still not relinquishing his hold on him, to grab it. "Bev probably just wants to know if we-" Richie broke off, stiffening against Eddie. "_Oh_."

"What?" Eddie asked, turning around in Richie's arms to try and get a look at his phone.

Richie swallowed softly before he said, "Someone recognized me at the pier."

"_What_?" Eddie asked again, his heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. He partially let go of Richie and placed his hand over the one Richie was holding his phone with.

"It's not…" Richie began, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat before he said, "Um, there's a picture of us, but it's kind of innocuous, actually." He let go of his phone, letting Eddie examine it. "Just scared the shit out of me."

Someone had tagged Richie on Twitter with a picture of them at the pier that night. It was just after they had bought their concessions, so they were both completely consumed in their food rather than each other, which was a massive relief. Richie was tearing off a large piece of cotton candy in the shot, and Eddie was picking a piece of popcorn out of his box while he clung to his turtle. The picture made Eddie smile and the caption on it read:

_I thought I saw TrashmouthTozier at the Santa Monica pier tonight, but I was too afraid to say anything. This is you, right? It's nice to know the rumors aren't true, but did I miss my chance to meet one of my idols? :(_

"Aw," Eddie murmured. "You have a sad fan."

"I wish they would have said something. I always enjoy meeting fans," Richie said, taking his phone back from Eddie and typing out a response. "Maybe they'll feel better if I answer them personally, and it'll at least help to set the record straight – that I haven't been out getting plastered this entire time."

"You enjoy meeting fans except when they're little kids from Derry that you scare the shit out of by screaming in their faces," Eddie commented.

"I thought that was the clown!" Richie exclaimed, waving an arm around for emphasis. "We had just been horribly traumatized by those fucking fortune cookies, and you expect me to have remembered a line from a routine I didn't even write?"

"I thought it was the clown too," Eddie admitted, "and I've _seen_ that act. More than once."

Richie grinned while he finished typing out his message. Once he set his phone back down on the counter, he leaned back against it and stared at Eddie. "You're okay with this, right?" Richie asked him.

"What? Getting my picture taken?" Eddie asked, gesturing absently to Richie's phone. When Richie nodded in response, Eddie shrugged before he said, "Myra was the last person to find out about us who actually mattered, so…yeah. I have nothing to hide. I'm mostly worried about how this is going to play out for you."

Richie took Eddie in his arms again, kissing the top of his head. "You're amazing."

"I just want to be with you, Rich," Eddie said. He settled his hands against the front of Richie's t-shirt, staring up at him. "If people are interested in my boring little life just because I'm hanging out with you now, they can knock themselves out."

"I love you," Richie said. "And thank you for being patient with me while I freaked out a little bit. I'm just…it's kind of all hitting me that this is happening, you know?"

"Yeah," Eddie hummed in response. "I keep looking around here and…I can't believe it."

He kissed Richie again before they ate Helen's fucking amazing lasagna and the salad she had left them as well. It was kind of nice that even though Richie talked about being alone before he and Eddie had gotten together, he still had friends that looked out for him and helped him. Richie was just kind of like that – despite the fact that he was an annoying dumbass, it was hard to not want to be his friend.

It was nearly an hour later when Eddie and Richie cuddled up in bed together. It was the very first night that it didn't pull uncomfortably at Eddie's scar to lay on his side, so he curled up against Richie's chest. It was a position Eddie had wanted to sleep in since he was thirteen years old, and it was actually happening.

Richie was on his back, and Eddie had his head cradled in the crook between Richie's neck and shoulder. Eddie's left hand was splayed across Richie's chest, and Richie's left arm was curled up around Eddie's shoulders. Richie was threading the fingers of his free hand through Eddie's, occasionally stopping to run them over Eddie's ring.

Despite the fact that Eddie was completely exhausted from the events of the day, he still didn't quite feel like sleeping. He was actually home with Richie, and it had been one of the best nights of Eddie's life for as long as he could remember. He didn't quite want it to end just yet.

"What are you thinking?" Richie asked, barely paying attention to the cooking show he had turned on. All of his attention was completely focused on Eddie, burying his nose in the top of Eddie's head.

"Can we have more nights like tonight?" Eddie asked quietly. "You…really made me feel special and that's all I've ever wanted."

"You are special," Richie murmured back, tightening his hold around Eddie, "and I'll give you a million more nights like tonight if you let me."

"Forever," Eddie mumbled, his eyes closing against his best efforts to the contrary. He drifted off, Richie not far behind him, and neither one of the awoke until the very first splinters of daylight began to pierce the Los Angeles sky.

_To be continued…_


End file.
